Till My Dying Breath
by Zoya Shaf
Summary: Tony is a train wreck. He's just about done with life, hanging on only because he can't bring himself to jump off the edge. Loki is sitting at the bottom of a deep, dark abyss. Wallowing in his despair, he sinks deeper into the black pit. Being the loving and caring people that they are, Thor and Pepper sign the two up for therapy. Slash
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just a few things you should know before you start reading**

**Right now this is rated T for Tony but I might change it to rated M later on or it might scratch the surface of rated M (for alcohol abuse, sexual references, and possibly dark themes)**

**The first chapter is kind of shitty, in my opinion. But it'll get better.**

**I have no idea where I want to go with this. The idea just popped into my head out of no where. Don't know if it's been done before, but oh well. Um, not going to be frequently updated since this is something to work on when I'm not working on my other two Avenger fics. **

* * *

**_How It All Began_**

"Thank you," The perky brunette receptionist said as she took the papers from Loki's hands. Scanning them over quickly, she turned to type something into her computer and then turned back to him. "We'll call you in, in a few minutes. Until then please wait."

Without responding, Loki turned away from the desk that was placed in the middle of the office and walked back to the waiting area, which was really just a clutter of hard plastic chairs strewn across a small portion of the room.

As he approached the waiting area, everyone turned to face him; terror, confusion, and derision dancing on their faces. Loki could hear the one thought that was bouncing around their brains and echoing off the white walls. Why would Loki Laufeyson, the leader of a recent extraterrestrial invasion, be at a therapist's office?

With their eyes following his every move, Loki tilted his head upward, his chin set in defiance and posture was stiff, despite the fact that the white walls of the office closing in on him. He was wearing his mask of impassiveness but underneath he felt strangely naked.

Back in Asgard while he had been waiting for his sentence to be announced, they had taken away his armor and without it he felt powerless, weak and small. The Midgardian clothes that he donned were disgraceful. The green cloth of the shirt stuck to his skin and the black pants hung loose on his hips. They weren't snug, unlike his armor.

Loki breathed in deeply. Why did it seem that the only empty chair in the room was miles away? The back of his neck was prickling and his hands were quivering yet Loki did not let it show. He would get through this.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Loki reached the hard red plastic chair. Sitting down, he stared down at his feet.

The man that had been sitting on the chair next to him quickly got up and moved to a corner of the room causing a smirk to form on Loki's lips. He might have been degraded from a prince of Asgard to a lowly criminal but at least the mortals feared him as they should.

Sighing, Loki straightened up and glared at those who were still staring at him. He watched as eyes widened and fluttered and faces turned away. At least he could amuse himself while he waited to be called. Once all eyes had turned away, Loki leaned back into the chair, wishing he could disappear and wondering how he had landed himself in the situation he was currently in.

The last part was easy enough to answer.

No matter how hard he had tried he could never compare to the golden Thor. Compared to the god of thunder, the fierce warrior, the great almighty Thor, what was he?

All of Asgard had mocked him behind his back so when the opportunity came, Loki seized it. He wanted to prove to Odin that he could be the golden son, and that he could rise to make Odin proud.

But fate had its own way. He never meant for things to get out of hand, they just did. And then when he was hanging from the Bifrost , a deep, dark, soul-sucking abyss under him, Odin still wouldn't accept him. In that moment Loki had realized that he would never be good enough, at least not for the Allfather. And so he had let go; let go of all the illusions that he had surrounded himself with and faced reality.

Wandering through the darkness, not having any idea where he was going, caught in between the realms, Loki had stumbled upon the Chitauri. With them he had found his solace. The Other enlightened him to the ways of the world and taught him that to survive meant to hate, to rule, to elicit fear from those who were inferior. Loki gladly accepted The Other's teachings; never questioning that there might be some good in the world. He came to believe that the fundamental emotion for every living thing was hate and that there was no such thing as love.

And when The Other had offered him a way to show his worth, Loki had agreed. Truth be told, Loki had believed that he was doing the mortals a favor. To live in fear and to be controlled were the only ways that the destruction that the humans were bringing upon themselves could be stopped.

In the beginning, taking over Midgard hadn't seemed difficult. Stealing the Tesseract was a simple enough task; the only threat had been Thor. Never could Loki have imagined that the mortals would ban together to protect their home. The Avengers came as a surprise but even then Loki hadn't been worried. They were just a band of misfits that would have brought their demise upon themselves. After all, Loki had seen them bickering first hand. To quote Banner, they had been a time bomb waiting to go off.

Who would have thought that a single death could have aroused them? Before Loki knew it, he was being taken back to Asgard, another failure to add onto his name.

He had been expecting a death sentence as soon as he got back to Asgard. Instead the Allfather had locked him up in one of the jail cells for a month. He was supposed to be self-reflecting but the only thing Loki did in the cell was stare at his fingernails. Self-reflection wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Then the day had come. Loki had been walked out into the open for the first time in a month. A crowd had gathered to see his execution. Everyone from Asgard was there. They couldn't wait to see him hang.

The time never came, much to the crowd's disappointment. Instead Odin had announced that Loki would be sent back to Midgard for self-reflecting. He was being banished.

Loki would have taken death by hanging over banishment to Midgard any day.

As Thor had escorted him to Asgard, he also escorted him back to Earth. Landing outside of an apartment in midtown Manhattan, Thor had told him that he was located close to Avengers HQ so that they could keep an eye on him.

That this was his last chance.

Thor had also told him that Stark had been constantly saying that Loki needed a therapist so he had looked into the matter, being the loving and protective older brother that he was. With the help of Jane he had found "the best" therapist that Manhattan had to offer and if Loki knew what was good for him, he would go to all his scheduled appointments.

Groaning, Loki straightened up. What time was it? How long had he been waiting? When would this torture be over?

"Loki?" A familiar voice reached the gods ears. Turning his head to face the voice, Loki immediately cursed his fate. Pretending that Loki had never seen him, he turned away.

"What a coincidence. What are you doing here? Finally realized that you have some serious problems? About time, I say." Tony Stark came and sat down in the empty seat next to the god, his voice every bit as annoying as Loki remembered it.

Loki ignored him and stared pointedly ahead.

"No, not responding? Oh come on, where's the fun in that."

"I can ask you the same," Loki spoke through gritted teeth.

"Why aren't I responding? Well, if I respond to something that I said people will think that I'm insane."

The man was hopeless.

"Or maybe you were referring to my purpose of being here? Well," Stark paused in the middle of his sentence. For dramatic effect, Loki guessed.

"You never answered my question so I see no reason to answer yours."

"I never asked," Loki mumbled under his breath and then louder, "You must enjoy hearing your own voice." Never once did his gaze waver from the dot in space that he was looking at. If he looked towards the mortal he would only find the need to inflict damage on him.

"Why yes, I find that my voice is quite soothing."

"Tony Stark?" A high pitched voice jarred Loki's ears. Finally, as he could resist no longer, he turned to face the mortal.

"The one and only," Tony winked at Loki before turning to fact the girl that was standing in front of him.

Loki watched in disgust as Tony's eyes scanned the girl before he turned and brightly smiled at her. Loki took his own time in accessing the female and found nothing appealing. Even for a hot summer's day, she was ridiculously underdressed, her highlighted brown curls falling over her tanned shoulders in loose curls. Her blue eyes were staring expectantly at Stark, her mouth smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe this. I'm such a huge fan. That whole thing you do with Iron Man is amazing,"

Loki snorted and turned away.

"Tell me about it." Loki wished that he could get up and leave but he couldn't. Even though he didn't need to listen to Thor, it was in his best interest to oblige to whatever he told him to do.

"I'm Christina," Loki watched from the corner of his eye as the girl stretched her hand out.

"Pleasure meeting you," Tony replied, shaking the girl's hand. The exchange of paper that occurred was not lost on Loki.

Shaking his hand he turned his gaze to the floor.

"So, I kinda have to go now, but it was totally awesome meeting you," Loki listened in silence as the steady beat of feet slapping against the ground got fainter.

"Cute but not really my type," Tilting his head slightly, Loki watched, amused, as Stark crumpled up the paper and deposited it in the pocket of his brown dress pants.

"What are you doing here? I suppose you aren't here to woo Midgardian women." he couldn't stop himself from asking, curiosity beating sense.

"I think you owe me an answer to that question first. And no, that just comes as a bonus. I don't know if you know this, but I'm irresistible. You're not in a very agreeable mood, are you? But then...you never were. Really a stick in the mud. Wait...don't tell me your jealous? You probably scare away all the women, don't you? But then again they love the whole badass image."

Loki didn't offer a response. He had made a mistake asking. Instead he returned to his earlier stiff posture, eyes staring at the floor. The mortal wanted to see Loki get irked. Well, Loki wouldn't give him the pleasure of succumbing to his will.

"Oh wait, no...there was this one time, right? A horse or something?" Stark burst out laughing.

Loki clutched his hands into fists, nails digging into palms. He had the urge to throw Stark out of another window, even though this time they weren't high up. But at least this time ht didn't have his suit.

From the corner of his eye, Loki watched as realization dawned on the mortal's face.

"Don't tell me that Thor actually took me seriously. Did he refer you here?" Loki's face twisted into a grimace as Stark entered another laughing fit.

"Oh gosh," Stark managed to get out in between laughs. A few excruciatingly long minutes later, he was wiping his eyes clear of the tears that had formed.

Before people had been sneaking peaks at the two from behind magazine covers but now they were openly staring. When Loki completed his sentence he would wring Stark's neck.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm also here to see Dr. Lucas," the buffoon's voice was laced with mockery.

"But you see, he's a close friend of mine. I'm here to visit him not to seek a consultation for any mental problems that I may have, which by the way, you seem to have a surplus of." The mortal had a death wish.

"Loki Laufeyson? The doctor's ready to see you." The words finally came.

Without saying a word to Stark, Loki hoisted himself out of his seat and walked over to the secretary who would lead him to the doctor's office.

Mistakenly, Loki looked back. The look in Stark's eyes chilled him to the bone. He could never have imagined the mortal looking so worn down and lost. A pain that stared at Loki whenever he looked into a reflective surface was mirrored in Stark's eyes.

Loki shook his head to chase the thoughts away. He had to focus on the torture that awaited him; He had enough on his plate without thinking about the broken genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.

* * *

**A/N: So yeah...um, I have no idea. This story is actually me experimenting with Tony and Loki's characters since in one of my other Avengers fic I'm having a little trouble portraying them. So you're going to get to see a lot of different shades of these two. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, added this to their story alerts and/or favorite list!**

******A special shout out to _BlackStormShadow_ (for proofreading this for me and helping me figure out what I want to do with this story) & _GreenLokiRKO_ (for listening to all my ideas and helping me sort them out) for helping me with this story. You both are awesome, awesome people.**

* * *

**_The Session  
_**

Loki paused in front of the mahogany door, his hand resting on the door knob. He was debating whether or not he should enter the doctor's office. After putting up with Stark in the waiting room, it almost didn't seem like it was worth the extra effort to actually see the doctor.

'Might as well go in, while you're here' a part of his mind told him. 'What if the doctor is supposed to report back to Thor or Jane on your progress?' Another voice supplied. 'You have nothing better to do'. 'Observing mortals is fun', his mind reasoned in the end.

Sighing, Loki turned the door knob and entered the lair of the dragon.

* * *

The room that Loki stepped into was dimly lit, casting a golden glow on everything. The curtains were drawn shut and as soon as Loki stepped in, a gust of cool air blew in his face.

"Close the door behind you. You wouldn't want the cold air getting out." A voice said, barely registering in Loki's mind as he turned his head towards the desk that was placed in the middle of the room. In the midst of cluttered papers, a young man stood sorting through them. He had spoken without looking up and, for now, the only thing Loki could see was the mop of light brown hair that he had on his head. With strands sticking out everywhere, the hair style was similar to Stark's. Groaning, Loki wished that he could bang his head against the wall. The annoying man had a way to crawl into your brain and stay there. Why did he even know what Stark's hair style was like?

'Because you always pay attention to the details', his mind answered its own question.

"Ah, found it." Picking up a piece of paper and quickly scanning it, the doctor looked up. Loki was momentarily shocked upon seeing /lavender/ eyes, but the moment passed quickly. Taking in the sight of the mortal, Loki decided that he would be a little difficult to crack. The messy hair gave off an aura of absentmindedness, but the set of his diamond shaped jaw gave off the aura of a determined person. Despite all this, it was maniac glint that could be found in his eyes that made Loki regret ever agreeing to come to the sessions.

"I'm Doctor Lucas. You must be Loki."

Loki stiffly nodded.

"Come have a seat, why are you still standing?"

For a moment Loki continued to take in the sight of the mortal. Maybe he would be hard to break but at least Loki wouldn't be bored out of his skull. Walking over to one of the armchairs that sat on the opposite side from the doctor's chair, Loki sat down.

"Not one for many words, are you? That goes against what your briefing says. Apparently they call you 'silver tongue?'"

Loki couldn't see where this was going. He stared blankly at the doctor. A brief pause followed the question.

"You know, I want to help you but I can't do anything without your cooperation."

No reply. Sighing, the doctor ran a hand through his hair.

Loki didn't need help. This mortal didn't know what he was talking about.

"You know I have to report back to Ms. Foster on your progress."

Loki stiffened. Jane would surely tell Thor whatever the doctor told her.

"I am the god of lies; therefore I have been named silver tongue." He replied curtly.

"Ah, yes. The whole god aspect."

"Do you not fear me?" Loki asked, smiling at the doctor.

Dr. Lucas shook his head.

"No. There is nothing to fear."

Loki's smile grew.

"You don't believe that."

Dr. Lucas didn't miss a beat.

"In fact, I do. You've been stripped of your staff and have no access to the Tesseract. Without those two things, you're completely powerless."

"I can still strangle you," Loki supplied.

"You can but you won't."

"And how can you be so sure of that?"

"Well, for one, you wouldn't want to face Thor's wrath."

"Does the concept that gods exist not faze you?"

"After you've been friends with Tony Stark for a few years, nothing fazes you."

The buffoon had managed to crawl his way into his conversation with the doctor, too,

"I don't see what Stark has to do with this,"

The doctor smiled.

"Hit a spot there, didn't we? I was merely making a reference." The doctor cleared his throat and looked down at the paper.

"For a god you had a pretty shitted up life."

Loki was taken aback by the use of language. When he didn't respond, Dr. Lucas looked up.

"There are no boundaries in this room, and anyways, I feel as if I treat you like a normal patient I'm going to be the one needing therapy."

Loki grinned but offered no response.

"You know I can keep you here for the rest of the day, right?"

"You have other patients."

"I'm not the only doctor that works in this office. You're my last patient for the day. The others in the waiting room are there for the other doctors." That's when the phone resting on the doctor's desk began to ring.

"For Christ's sake," Dr. Lucas mumbled before turning over to pick up the phone.

"Yes? Maryann, I'm with a patient, what is it? ... Tony? What does he want? ... Okay … Hey, Tony … Anti-depressants? Why? ... No, Tony, I can't just give you a prescription for them … I don't care that you're Tony Stark … I don't care that it was a joke, I'm not giving them to you without seeing you first … No, I don't mean I want to see you as in catch a glimpse of you … Tony, listen to me … no, why? ... Don't tell Pepper? Why? ... Tony, it's going to take five minutes. You can come right now … So what if Loki's here? ... You're a jackass, too … No one's a bigger jackass than you, Tony … I know it's true … I am not giving you a prescription for anti-depressants … How many times do I have to say it? ... No, I'm not going to say it one more time … I'm not being unreasonable, you are."

Even though Loki was only hearing one side of the conversation, it was enough to piece something together. Why did Stark need anti-depressants? But first, Loki had to find out what anti-depressants were … are … whatever. Loki watched as the doctor sighed.

"Five minutes, Tony, that's all I'm asking … If you had a busy schedule you wouldn't be on the phone talking to me for this long." This time there was a long pause. Loki could hear Starks voice at the other end of the line but couldn't make out anything that he was saying. Once again the doctor sighed. "Last time, okay? This is the last time. You better call me up when you're free and if you don't, I'll hunt you down. For now I'll give you a low dosage … No, I'm not giving you a high dosage … Tony, take it or leave it … Give the phone to Maryann … She's the one that called … Hey, Maryann, give the man a low dosage of anti-depressants. Yes, the 25 milligram one. I can't really say which one because he refuses to see me. Any is fine for now. Thanks."

Dr. Lucas slammed the phone down. "I swear I'm going to kill that man one day." He muttered.

"Get in line," Loki supplied.

The doctor looked up in shock, almost as if he had forgotten that Loki was there. Laughing, he smiled at the god.

Sitting down in his chair he spoke.

"I totally forgot about the whole invasion fiasco. I was actually going to go over your whole past with you but I think I'll start from the most recent events: the invasion. Was it so that you could prove your worth to Odin?"

Loki didn't say anything.

"If you don't answer, I'll just take it to mean yes."

"You think that you can help me by talking to me? What help can you, a mortal, possibly provide me with by discussing my past?"

"Talking about things helps."

"People pay you for this?" Loki asked in shock. He couldn't believe it.

Dr. Lucas laughed.

"Yeah." Then, his face turning serious, he added, "Look. From what Thor told me about you and from all the information on this piece of paper the only thing I can come up with is that you have problems. And I don't mean that you're crazy type of problems. I mean … well, problems. I need to you cooperate with me and talk to me, answer my questions truthfully. If you don't we can't get anywhere; and, also, if you don't cooperate, I'll be forced to inform Thor. I don't want to do that."

"What are you playing at?"

"What?" The doctor looked genuinely surprised.

"You act like you care. Is it not a ruse? Are you not agreeing to this because you are afraid?" Loki didn't know why his voice was raising but it was. He didn't need the false pity that was shining in the doctor's eyes. He was a god, he didn't need anyone. Under a different circumstance, Loki would have been angry. But right now he didn't feel anything but annoyance.

"Were your hands always clutched that tightly? You weren't shaking before. Do you always experience such extreme bursts of emotions?"

Loki was once again caught off guard. What did he have to do to make the mortal in front of him quiver with fear? And what about the line of questioning? What point was the mortal trying to make?

"Recently." Loki found himself answering.

"Curious, aren't you?" The doctor paused, his intense eyes taking in Loki. The god fidgeted in his chair. He didn't appreciate the way the man was staring at him.

"You have no idea what human mental disorders are, do you? Or what exactly you are doing here? Nothing?"

Loki shook his head.

"I am a god not a human. I do not have a mental disorder. My brain is in perfect working condition."

"That doesn't mean that you can't suffer from the same things that humans do. Gods love, don't they? They hate, they laugh, they cry, they experience happiness and anger. So do humans. Our brains are wired the same way. The only difference is that some of you can summon thunder on your will and we can't. You guys can freeze things by snapping your fingers, we can't. You control forces of nature, and we don't." Dr. Lucas didn't address the second part of Loki's statement. It was too early for him to begin explaining what mental disorders where to a god. First he had to make sure that his assumptions were correct.

"That's a very big difference. You forgot the fact that we're immortal."

"Thanks to the golden apples,"

Loki blankly stared at the doctor.

"I took a Norse mythology course in college." Dr. Lucas replied shrugging.

"Why?"

"I'll answer your questions after you answer mine."

"Is that a type of barter?"

"If you want it to be."

"There's nothing interesting about you. Why would I want to barter my information for yours?"

"Because you asked."

Loki didn't know how to respond so he didn't say anything at all. After a moment of silence he spoke.

"I don't."

"Don't what?"

"I don't love. I've forgotten how to laugh and smile. Happiness is foreign to me. Once I used to feel hate but now I've been deprived of that too. Anger? That still comes in random bursts. You speak of sadness." Loki chuckled. "Sadness is a familiar term. But it grew to such an extent that I no longer feel its sting. What I feel is nothing. As if I'm nothing. I am a wisp of a person that once was. At the best the only thing I feel is pain but even pain is deserting me. I've felt it prick my side so many times that I can feel it no more." Loki didn't know why he was telling the infernal mortal all this but now that he had begun he couldn't stop talking. Maybe it was the way he was looking at him, with those eyes that said that he would understand. Loki didn't need anyone to understand him. He was fine on his own.

"To sum it up, numbness."

"What?"

"You feel numb."

"No."

"Then?"

"I don't feel."

"That's the same as being numb."

"No. No, it's not." The doctor's eyes lied. He didn't understand. Loki had been foolish to confide in him. He'd been tricked. He was feeling worse than when he had entered and that accursed cold was back, chilling Loki to the bone. He did feel. He just didn't feel happiness, sadness, anger, or love. He felt alone, broken, lost, and _**cold**_. Though, he would never tell anyone this, not even this insipid mortal.

Sighing, the doctor leaned back into his chair.

"Your shaking hands and clutched fists show increased emotional arousal. And yet you claim to feel numb. With the Chitauri, their leader told you that if you failed you would know true pain? Or something similar to that, right? Tell me about it."

"Why?"

"Why should you tell me about it?"

Loki nodded.

"You opened up some. Why not open up the whole way?"

"What is my benefit from all this?"

"Relief."

Loki shook his head.

"Why does there have to be a benefit?"

Loki didn't answer because he didn't know the answer.

"Human nature," he supplied after a while.

"But you insist that you're different from humans."

Loki was beginning to despise the doctor. He was an interesting mortal, one that would be fun to break, but he was a pain.

"Okay, how about this? I'll cut the meeting short a few minutes. You were supposed to be here for an hour, but I'll let you go fifteen minutes earlier. You go home and think about this: do you want to come here? If no, then don't. I can't work with you if you don't cooperate. You opened up a little and then you went right back into your shell. I can't work with you like that. I'll give you as much room as you need, but you need to work with me. If yes, then you'll find that this will benefit you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because, frankly, extraterrestrial invasions are tiresome," even though the doctor's face was serious, his eyes were twinkling informing Loki that it was a joke.

"If I do not wish to come, I don't have to?" Loki questioned just to make sure.

Dr. Lucas nodded.

"What about Thor?"

"I'll come up with something."

"Why would you do that?"

"To make my life easier; I took on the job knowing that it was going to be difficult but I thought I could find a weak spot. There's always a weak spot. But I haven't spotted it. Not yet, at least. You've surrounded yourself with layers and layers of walls and I can't penetrate it. And anyways, I already began to piece together some things. I just need you to talk to me. Nothing else. That's all you have to do. Talk. If you don't want to, I can't force you. If you want to, then I'm all ears. Trust me, it will benefit you. Think of it this way: Thor won't clobber you with his hammer."

"I do not understand you, mortal."

"Name's Alexander,"

"What?"

"My name is not mortal, it's Alexander."

Loki smiled at the doctor, sardonically.

"But I've noticed that you're big on last names so substitute mortal with Lucas. And as for the not understanding, what don't you understand?"

"Everything."

"Well that's a good thing, I guess, because I don't understand you either. If you wish to leave you can. If you want, you can come back tomorrow. Any time is fine with me. If you don't, you don't have to."

Nodding, Loki picked himself up from the chair and left the room.

Alexander waited until he couldn't hear Loki's footsteps before picking up the phone and calling the receptionists desk.

"Hey, Maryann, I'm free for tomorrow, right? Two appointments? When? Okay, I can deal with that. Oh, for no reason. Why is Loki leaving early? I let him? Why? Because we scheduled an appointment for tomorrow. How do I know that he's going to come?" The doctor laughed. "He's coming back, trust me. He's too curious. He wasn't willing to cooperate today, but he will be, tomorrow. Okay then." Alex turned the phone off and smiled at the empty room. Loki was going to be a tough nut to crack, but he would find a way. He always did.

* * *

Pepper walked into Stark Tower to find Tony passed out in his living room, music blaring so loud that she couldn't hear herself think.

"JARVIS!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, taking in the various bottle of alcohol strewn across the living room floor. Tony's head was currently resting on the coffee table, one cheek pressed against the marble.

The music turned off before Jarvis replied.

"Welcome back, Ms. Potts."

"What is all this, Jarvis?" Pepper asked in despair, pushing strands of red hair out of her face.

"Mr. Stark seemed to be having an alcohol binge."

"How much did he drink?"

"He passed out half way through his sixteenth bottle."

"Of what?"

"Various drinks such as vodka, beer, and wine; he grabbed whatever he could get his hands on. Two mini-fridges were emptied."

"How long ago did he pass out?"

"It's been around three hours."

"What am I going to do with him, Jarvis? I thought he cut back the drinking."

"He did."

"What happened?"

"It might have something to do with the fact that Mr. Howard Stark's death anniversary is coming up along with the fact that you two recently broke up. Not to mention that his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has gotten worse. Launching a nuclear missile through an intergalactic portal and then falling to what should have been his death, has not really help his situation. He's been screaming in his sleep, again. This time it's not only about his days as a hostage in the Middle East but it's about palladium poisoning. The arc reactor is giving him problems again."

Pepper sighed and walked over to where Tony was sprawled. Getting down on her knees, she pushed the hair out of his face.

"So, it's my fault, Jarvis?"

Jarvis didn't reply.

"It is, isn't it? I was selfish. Things weren't working out and I just ended it. We both wanted it to work … but it wasn't."

"May I ask why?"

"I …" Pepper sighed. "He needs someone who can help him. I can't. I tried and I failed. He wanted things to work with me because he wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of loving someone. That he isn't a monster or an empty shell. I … I can't help him with that. I tried, Jarvis, I really did. I was there for him every step of the way but in the end, it wasn't enough. He couldn't open up to me. I'm not … /the one/." Pepper's voice was laced with grief. If not someone she loved romantically, Tony was the best friend she ever had and she hated seeing him in the state he was in now.

"Do you think he'll get over it in time?" Pepper asked Jarvis after a while, already knowing the answer.

"Time is not enough to heal Mr. Stark's wounds."

"I should carry him to his room, shouldn't I?"

"Yes."

Smiling weakly at Tony, she reached over and straightened him up. Placing on of his arms around her shoulders, and one of her arms around his hips, she picked him up and dragged him to his bed room.

* * *

Loki couldn't sleep. He kept on tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable in his new bed. He couldn't. After another ten minutes of willing himself to sleep, he gave up.

Getting out of bed, he tossed the covers aside and walked out to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drank. Loki could feel the cold water slither down his throat and come to a stop in his stomach. He didn't feel better. Perhaps he no longer felt so dizzy, but definitely not better. The urge to bang someone's head against the wall was still with him.

Maybe what he needed was fresh air. Walking over to the large window in the living room, Loki pulled it open and stuck his head out. Loki breathed in the cool fresh night air and felt the mist clear from his head.

The doctor had confused him but he was confused no longer. He would go back tomorrow. Not so that the doctor could analyze him. He would go back to find a way to make the doctor break. If he had to cooperate with him in order to do that, Loki would.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed. I actually quite like this chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As always, thank you all for the wonderful reviews and adding this story to your favorites and alerts.**

**I must say I'm quite happy with this chapter though all the Loki angst might begin to seem a little repetitive. I know the genre says Humor/Angst and that so far the story's been all angsty and stuff but never fear, the humor's coming! It's just going to take a while to kick in. **

**Oh, and I've changed the name of this story to "Till My Dying Breath" **

* * *

**_Windows To Your Soul_**

Loki was tossing and turning in his bed, constantly pulling his covers up and them throwing them off. Restlessly, he ran his hand through his hair. The day's conversation with Dr. Lucas was running through his head. He had returned to the office thinking that he could outsmart the doctor, but instead, the doctor had turned the tables on him. Loki had ended up revealing his life's story bit by bit to the mortal.

He had started off by asking Loki about his experience with the Chitauri and moving backwards into his past. Loki hadn't planned to, but he ended up tell Dr. Lucas that his experience with the Chitauri had been traumatizing, and even now, a month later, he felt The Other whispering in his ear, his grip around Loki's neck. The god would be having a perfectly normal day, sitting at his dining table and eating breakfast while looking over the daily newspaper that got delivered to his door, when suddenly terror would seize him and make it hard for him to breathe. He would feel The Other's slimy long fingers around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. His skin would prickle as if the leader of the Chitauri was breathing down his neck.

The doctor had eaten the information up.

He had even managed to get Loki to talk about his childhood, a subject Loki mostly avoided.

For the most part, Loki's childhood had been nothing out of the ordinary, yet one would be justified in saying that his problems began there.

Innocence isn't lost, it's taken; and Loki's was stolen from him at a very young age.

At the age of twelve, Loki had been young and foolish; just as most other twelve year olds are.

One day, when Thor had come along and asked Loki if he wanted to join him, what was beginning to be the Warriors Three, and Sif on their adventure in the woods, Loki had agreed. At that time, he was eager to please Thor is whatever way was possible, despite the fact that deep down in the depths of his soul, Loki was jealous of the older god. However, Loki's overflowing love for Thor was stronger than his jealousy. Even if no one else was there for him, Thor would always come through. Even if no one else liked him, Thor's love for him was enough. The two may not have been alike in any way, shape, or form, but they completed each other; brothers till their dying day.

On that day, Loki had followed Thor and his friends into the woods, quickly growing tired of their boisterous talk. Wandering off, he separated himself from Thor, knowing that no one would notice that he was missing. Loki knew that deep in the woods somewhere, there was a colony of dwarves. His curiosity had bested him and he set out to look for the colony.

A while of exploring and Loki still hadn't found the dwarves dwelling. He was just about to give up, when he stumbled upon two of the creatures. It wasn't a colony, but it was better than nothing. Coming out from behind the tree where Loki was hiding, he had addressed the dwarves, referring to himself as Loki, prince of Asgard. The dwarves laughed at him, saying that how could someone so thin, fragile looking, and pale be an Asgardian, much less a prince? The people of Asgard were known for being fierce warriors, like Thor, and Loki was anything but. After their laughing fit died down, the dwarves introduced themselves as Brokkr and Sindri.

Noticing that Sindri was forging something out of wrought iron, Loki was quick to make a bet, wanting to prove his worth and his status as a prince of Asgard. He waged that any three items that he could come up with would be deemed more valuable by Odin than anything that Sindri could forge. When asked what he was waging, Loki informed them that he was willing to bet on his head. The wager was sealed and the two went out to find three gifts worthy of the AllFather.

After Loki had left the dwarves, he had gone back to meet Thor, the Warriors Thee, and Sif. As he had expected, no one had noticed that he had gone missing. Thor might have been an over-protective, loving, older brother, but when he was with his friends Loki became a side thought. The younger god tried not to take offense at the fact.

Waiting for the opportune moment, when everyone was distracted by the rustling bushes, Loki had snuck up behind Sif and without her knowing, had cut her luscious, then golden, hair. Telling Thor that he was tired, he had headed back to the castle to gather his other two gifts. No one had noticed what he had done and Loki wanted to leave before they did.

When the time came, Loki and Sindri presented Odin with their gifts; Odin, unaware that a wager had been set, had chosen a hammer forged by Sindri. That's when Loki began to run for his life.

Thankfully, he was much faster than the dwarf. Looking back over his shoulder, Loki had smiled at how far behind Sindri was. Because he wasn't looking forward he had bumped into Thor, falling back onto the ground.

"How dare you cut Sif's hair?" Thor bellowed at Loki. It was well known that he had a budding crush on Sif.

"I …" Loki couldn't explain himself. Thor's rage and the worry that the dwarf would catch up to him had left him speechless; his head wasn't working properly.

"Prince Thor!" A part of Loki boiled at the fact that the dwarves had laughed at him when he had said that he was a prince, and yet, they so easily addressed Thor by his proper title.

"Drawf, what are you doing here?" Thor asked, turning his intense gaze from Loki to the creature.

"Sire," Sindri began to explain.

Loki listened, his ears turning bright red, as the dwarf recounted the story. How could he have been so foolish? He had heard the stories about the dwarves and their magic forges, so then why? Now he was going to have his head severed. Tears began to well up in Loki's eyes.

"I see," Thor sighed. "Being a prince and a man, you must live up to your word." He spoke as he turned back to Loki.

What? What was going on? Thor's anger, Loki could handle, but why was Thor turning on him? Was it because of Sif's hair? Loki was supposed to come first to Thor, not Sif! They were brothers! Thor couldn't let Loki's head be severed.

"Tho …" Loki began to choke out but then stopped upon seeing the cold, hard look in Thor's eyes; he would not save Loki.

The older god began to move in on Loki, who was still splattered on the ground.

"Wait!" He cried out in a last attempt to save himself.

"What is it, brother?" How could he still refer to himself as Loki's brothers! Brothers did not turn on each other!

"I wagered my head, not my neck. In order to sever my head you'll have to cut through my neck. I did not bet on my neck."

The dwarf growled.

"They do not call the younger prince of Asgard silver tongue for nothing, I see." In his hand he summoned a needle and a long thread. "Then we shall take away that quick mouth of yours." Sindri pushed the needle and thread towards Thor.

Looking down at it, the anger in Thor's eyes cleared and Loki once again saw hope. Brothers till their dying day, he reminded himself. Thor wouldn't be so cruel as to actually follow the dwarf's words. He was a god, a prince; he was superior to the dwarf, and could easily dismiss the notion of sewing Loki's lips together.

Loki watched in horror as Thor sighed and looked at him with sad eyes.

"As a prince and a man, you must live up to your words," he repeated.

Loki woke up with a scream, a stabbing sensation surrounding his lips, and his stomach doing back flips. Suddenly he felt very small and helpless. The cold was back again.

Falling to the floor from his bed, he picked himself up and hurried over to the kitchen, sloppily pouring himself a glass of water. He felt the cold liquid slide down his throat. As Loki swallowed the water, his hands flew to his lips.

"F … fine, I'm fine." He said the words out loud just to make sure that he could speak. Sighing, he leaned against the counter and sank to the floor. He had dug up memories that he had long buried and now it would take centuries to bury them again. Until then, the nightmares would keep him company.

It was the stupid doctor's fault.

Getting up, Loki shook himself. It was all in the past ... he had moved on.

But he hadn't.

The betrayal's sting was still fresh. That one event had stolen his immense love for Thor, and whatever misconception he had that Thor was different from the others, that Thor cared for him and would always be there for him. Thor, himself, had moved on, forgetting the event as if it had never happened.

The event had not only stolen his love for Thor, but his ability to see the good in the world. At the age of twelve, Loki had become a cold shell.

Sure, as time went on, his bitterness faded a little and he began to warm up to Thor, but things never went back to the way they were and no one noticed but Loki. He suffered alone, his only friend being the darkness that shrouded his existence.

"Ugh!" Groaning, Loki kicked the bottom cupboards in the kitchen; a fit of frustration seizing him. What had he ever done to deserve everything that life was throwing at him? Was it his fault that he had struggled to prove himself all his life? He hadn't planned for things to turn out so miserably. In the beginning he just wanted Odin to see him as a worthy son, for the people of Asgard to recognize him as their prince. Was that so wrong?

The whole mess had begun as mischief. He wasn't evil, _he was the god of mischief_; he had just been doing his thing. When he had spoken to Thor about the Jotuns invading Asgard, he had been being mischievous, playing along with Thor. He didn't plan for Thor to get banished. Yes, he had resented Thor but _he never wanted him to hurt._ That's why he had informed Heimdall of their going to Jotunheim.

Thor's banishment wouldn't have had the effect on Loki that it did if it hadn't been for him finding out about his parentage. Seriously, by itself it wasn't so bad, Loki would never see himself as Laufey's son; but it was the fact that Odin had hid it from Loki that stung. It was the fact that he had been taken in to be used as leverage, as a pawn. Finally it made sense to him why he was always cast aside. But he would still prove himself. Loki knew he had it in him; he just had to make Odin see. And that's when things ricocheted off the walls and came flying at Loki. It was one thing after the other until it had gotten to his head and he had lost what little sense he had left.

And then there was that abyss. He had seen things in the dark pits of that soul-sucking abyss that haunted him still and would forever haunt him. His memory was tainted and so was his soul.

Loki kicked the cabinet door again; his anger quickly fading to grief. His heart ached; it hurt to breathe and suddenly living seemed meaningless. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die. If he was dead no one would care. Everyone would rejoice, instead. He didn't have anyone to mourn for him. Death seemed too easy, too tangible of an approach. But then Loki remembered that he was a god and that he had years of longevity ahead of him.

The answer to that was simple: cut back on the golden apples.

Is this what the doctor meant by suicidal thoughts? He had asked Loki if he had ever considered suicide and Loki had said no; a lie. He guessed that Dr. Lucas had seen though his lie.

The grief turned to cold and Loki stood paralyzed in his kitchen, his breaths coming out uneven and short. His hands shot up to his neck, clawing at long and slimy fingers that weren't there.

"Get away!" Loki shouted, stumbling backwards. Shaking, he looked around the room, positive that the Chitauri had come back to reap their horrible vengeance.

No one was there.

Even though Odin had settled the matter with the creatures, The Other's promise hung heavy on Loki's shoulders; the promise that if the god failed, he would come for him.

Loki decided that he needed some fresh air.

* * *

"Jarvis …" Tony spoke while trying to muffle a yawn.

"Yes, sir?" the AI replied.

"Why won't the fridge door open?" Tony pulled on the handle to the fridge and yet the door remained shut. Tony tried a few more times, eyes fighting sleep, and still the door wouldn't open.

"Ms. Potts instructed me to keep you from accessing the fridges containing alcohol."

It took a while for Tony to realize what Jarvis had just said; his brain was still reeling due to the fact that his last hangover hadn't yet gone away.

"Why would she do that?" Tony swayed on his legs and leaned against the fridge, waiting for the dark spots in front of his eyes to disappear. The humming of the fridge under his body caused him to laugh drunkenly.

"I can't be entirely sure, sir, but it might have something to do with the fact that in a course of ten minutes you had finished off six bottles of tequila."

"Oh yeah," Tony chuckled at the memory. "But that was earlier in the day." he whined as he yanked at the handle, yet again. "Jarvis?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir?"

"Am I your master or Pepper? Open the god damned fridge." Tony pushed himself away from the fridge and slammed it with his hands.

If Jarvis had been a real person, Tony bet that he would be pursing his lips at the moment.

"You are my master and that is why I am listening to Ms. Potts. We both have your interests at heart."

"You don't have a heart!" Tony cried out. His voice resounded off the walls and through the empty floor. Tony walked out of the kitchen, his walk wobbly, and looked around the floor. All the lights were off and the darkness resembled the one that Tony saw all day long. Except this one wasn't as stifling.

"Was that meant for me, sir, or were you reminding yourself of the fact. And also, sir, for the genius that you refer to yourself as, you lack basic knowledge of the English language."

"Shut up, Jarvis, you sound like Alfred."

"May I suggest a walk through the park? It's quite chilly outside. Maybe the cold will bring you to your senses."

"Yes, mother," Tony groaned. Actually, the idea wasn't all that bad. He could look for a deli that was still open and hopefully find some beer.

"I'm going out,"

"All nearby delis are closed, sir."

Tony stopped halfway to the elevator.

"Damn you, Jarvis." He said before he continued walking, slightly swaying from side to side.

* * *

As soon as the first cold burst of air hit Tony in the face, his eyes fluttered open and the last tendrils of the hangover faded away.

"Maybe a walk will help," Tony said to himself, wrapping his arms around his body. It was quite chilly for a normal summer night but then again, the weather in New York City was always going haywire.

After standing in front of his door step for a while, Tony headed in the direction of Central Park.

* * *

"I guess I'm not the only lost soul out," Tony mumbled as he came upon an occupied bench. As he got closer and closer to the bench, the silhouette began to look familiar.

The name Loki registered in Tony's head. What's he doing out this late? He thought. Probably the same thing Tony was doing: clearing his head.

Tony walked right by Loki, waiting for the god to notice him. He stopped a few feet from the bench when the other man showed no signs of having seen him. Turning on his heel he walked back, looking at the god from the corner of his eye; still no sign of Loki having noticed him. Tony repeated the process a few times, walking back and forth in front of the bench.

Finally stopping to take a closer look at Loki, Tony noticed that his eyes were unfocused and that he was too far gone, having ventured too deep into his mind and now going through some probably horrific experience concocted by his brain, to notice Tony.

What the heck, Tony thought. It wasn't like he had anything better to do at three in the morning. And anyways, he was feeling a little suicidal. Walking over to Loki, Tony placed a hand on one of Loki's shoulders and shook him.

* * *

If eyes were the windows to ones soul, then the being in front of him had a very broken soul. Loki was shaken out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting big, twinkling, brown ones. How could someone have bottled up so much sorrow? So much grief that it was overflowing in their eyes? The god thought. The eyes in front of him became overwhelming and he moved back, a face taking form in front of him.

"Stark," he growled upon realizing who the eyes belonged to.

"Good to see you too, sunshine." The mortal shot back.

"What are you doing here?" Where exactly was here? Loki looked around, remembering that he had decided to take a stroll through Central Park.

"Um … public park, open to the public. I, Tony Stark, am part of the public."

Loki groaned as he hoisted himself off the bench. Without saying a word, he began to head towards home.

"So, do you phase out like that often?" Stark asked coming up from behind and falling into step next to Loki.

"What are you doing, Stark?" Loki didn't once cast a glance towards the other man. The look in his eyes had scared Loki. Why had it scared him? What was there to be scared about? Maybe it was because it was a look that stared back at Loki when he looked into a mirror. Loki didn't want to have anything in common with the blundering idiot next to him.

"Walking; don't tell me you have something against me walking."

Loki didn't respond.

"I'll take your silence as a yes to my earlier question,"

"Go home, Stark."

"I will."

For a while the two men walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

"Is this where you live? Kind of shabby if you ask me," Stark commented when they came upon Loki's apartment complex.

"No one asked you …" Loki walked up to his door, glad to see that Stark had stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, Loki willed himself not to turn around. Just as all those years ago, his curiosity bested him.

"Why are you still here?" The god asked as he looked over his shoulder.

"No reason … I'm just thinking that if Pepper ever kicks me out of my house, or if I have to hide from her for some reason, I can just come and crash at your place. Steve would probably rat me out and I wouldn't want to impose on Bruce. Thor stays at Stark Tower whenever he comes, and I can't imagine staying with Natasha or Clint," The buffoon explained. Loki really hadn't been looking for such a long response.

"Well, you should know that you're not welcome here, Stark." Loki said before opening the door and entering his house. He made the mistake of looking back once more. That far gone look was back in Stark's eyes.

What could possibly be wrong with the mortal's life? He seemed to be a man with no worries; no problems … well other than the one lodged in his chest, but still, even that he had tuned into something profitable.

Then why were his eyes so lost? Loki ran a hand through his hair. At least thinking about Stark kept the other, more disturbing, thoughts at bay.

* * *

**A/N: I know the whole Loki getting his lips sewn together story doesn't really go the way I portrayed it here, but I had to tweak it to fit the story.**


	4. Chapter 4

The Diagnosis

Loki's eyes took in Dr. Lucas' hunched posture and his distressed eyes, his uneasiness increasing by the second. The doctor was currently shuffling through papers on his desk.

The god had walked into the room, waiting to hear the doctor's usual cheery greeting. Instead, he had found the man looking ill at ease. A sudden dread seizing him, Loki had made his way to his usual chair, and still the doctor had shown no signs of acknowledging Loki's presence. The two men sat in silence, Loki waiting impatiently. What did fate have in store for him today? It had been two weeks since Loki had begun to visit Alexander Lucas' office, and in those two weeks, Loki found his entire being, being ripped apart and analyzed. Every last bit of Loki's life had been laid out in front of the doctor and every question from what was the difference between a bad guy and a _bad guy _to what Loki had experienced in the abyss surrounding the Bifrost had been discussed. Every day for the past two weeks, Loki would return to his apartment, feeling worse than when he had left to go to his appointment. His mind would be sent reeling, thinking about the day's session, repeating his conversations with the doctor over and over again.

In that office he had relived the horrors of his life, again and again, and yet he still returned the next day. It was those lavender eyes, eyes that held the secrets to the universe, that reeled him in; those eyes that said that they understood.

"What is it?" Loki couldn't help the apprehension that had crept into his voice. The silence had finally gotten to him and he felt as if he was going to explode. The god couldn't help but feel like he was a part of one of those terribly-made sitcoms that revolved around a hospital …

As an excuse for knowing about those sitcoms ... these past few days Loki had had too much free time on his hands.

Dr. Lucas looked up, his usually smiling face, serious. Looking at Loki with those same eyes, Alexander Lucas pulled himself together. His suspicions had been right.

Now how to explain it to Loki? The doctor wasn't as worried about Loki inflicting bodily harm on him as he was about the fact that the god might crawl deeper into the dark pit that had consumed him.

"So, Loki, sorry about this," Dr. Lucas gestured to the clutter on his desk, also referring to his unusual behavior. "But, I finally drew up a diagnosis."

Loki's ears perked up.

"Diagnosis? I am not diseased." He argued without knowing what Dr. Lucas had meant.

"No," Alex paused and pursed his lips. "Listen first. You're not exactly _diseased_," he spoke, stretching out the last word. "I believe that you have depression." He finished off, waiting for the news to sink in.

"Depression?" Loki questioned, not understanding. "Are you referring to the emotion defined as excessive sadness or gloom?"

"Not exactly … depression is … yes, that is the definition of the word depression, but I'm not talking about the word. I'm talking about the psychological …" Alexander paused, thinking of a way to describe the term. To a normal person, he wouldn't have had to explain, but alas, Loki wasn't a normal person.

"Disease?" Loki filled in the blank that the doctor had left.

"No, not exactly,"

"I have a disease?"

"No, not really …"

Loki cut him off.

"It's a yes or no question."

"Depression is sometimes referred to as a disease of the mind,"

"So, yes?"

"If you would prefer to see it that way, yes … you have a disease." Dr. Lucas' voice had an edge to it.

Loki leaned back into his chair, not being able to wrap his mind around what the doctor had just told him.

"And that's not all,"

"There's more?" Loki groaned.

"It's quite an extensive list, actually."

Alex looked down at the list in his hand.

"From what you've told me about feeling The Other's presence, that's due to anxiety disorder and/or post-traumatic stress disorder. It's when …"

"The names pretty self-explanatory," Loki snarled. All those times when people told him that there was something wrong with him, they had been right. All those times when he had ignored them thinking that they couldn't possibly know anything … it was he who didn't know anything.

The voices had won.

A moment of silence ensured.

"Is there a chance of recovery?" Loki found himself blurting out.

Dr. Lucas let out an uneasy laugh.

"It's not something life-threatening, Loki. Well, it can be if you let it get the best of you. I can prescribe you anti-depressants … but, I still need to work with you more in order to do that. For now, I suggest that you get out and about, try to fix things up, find a hobby; do something that will make you feel good. "

"Like Stark," Loki mumbled, ignoring most of what the doctor had said.

"Excuse me?"

"Like Stark." Loki repeated a little bit louder.

Dr. Lucas' face hardened.

"I am not permitted to discuss one patient with another."

"But he is a patient?"

"We're not here to talk about Tony, Loki. We're focusing on you. You heard me right? Find a hobby or something that you'll enjoy, keep yourself occupied."

"Are we done for the day?" Loki asked instead of replying to Dr. Lucas.

The other man sighed.

"Yes,"

* * *

**A/N: I'm so terribly sorry ... this isn't even 1,000 words! And on top of that, it's a pretty shitty chapter ... I'm terrible, I know. I didn't proofread this either xD**

**Next chapter will be longer and better and will hopefully be updated quicker. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: In order to make up for yesterday's terrible update, HERE'S ANOTHER ONE!**

**It's definetly longer, I can't say much for better. I am actually trying to proof read this story, but I got really lazy so sorry for any mistakes. **

* * *

**Pity Parties**

"So, Jarvis, what will it be? A lady friend or a robotic body?" Tony was currently lounged on his lab chair, limbs sprawled in every direction, one foot on the floor, slowly rocking himself back and forth. For a week, he had locked himself up in his lab, telling Pepper not to disturb him, Jarvis being his only companion. Tony was glad to say that over the course of the week, he and his computer butler had bonded quite well.

At the moment, Tony was smiling from ear to ear at the ceiling, AC DC playing in the background. A while before Tony had sat himself down in his chair, he had been randomly strutting around his lab, singing along to his IPod. Out of nowhere, he had remembered that he had to attend a press conference the next day and his happiness went flying out the window.

He had run out of hiding places. By now, Pepper knew them all by heart. And even if he were to fly to Malibu in the morning, Pepper would black mail him to flying back. He needed to find a place where she couldn't reach him. As these thoughts went whizzing though Tony's head, he found that he had walked over to his desk where blue prints for the modifications to Stark Towers were laid out. After the Chitauri invasion, Stark Tower had been in ruins. Having a mind set of rebuilding it better than ever, Tony had added a few floors, one for each of the Avengers. After the blue prints had been finished, he had found out that, apparently, if he wanted to renovate _his house, _he would have to ask the city of New York. The request had been set, yet Tony had still not received a reply even though a month had already passed.

Being that he was Tony Stark he still had made the modifications. But now, seeing the plans, a burst of inspiration seized him and he had sat down and begun to modify the modifications, happiness flooding through his veins.

Then slowly, inspiration ran out but the joyful feeling stayed. Tony knew that the feeling wouldn't last, but at the moment, he relished it. It was a good thing that he had taken his medication this morning.

"You seem to be in a delightful mood today," the computer butler replied.

"It's the meds. You didn't answer my question."

"Neither of those two options would be of any use, sir." Jarvis replied after a moment.

Tony straightened up, his fingers tingling.

"Then give me some to do!" Tony felt his glamour of happiness slipping. In his head, Tony was imagining himself trying to cup water in his hands, a similar sensation compared to trying to stay joyful.

"Jarvis, we both know that you're really lonely. And, I mean, as much as it pains me to say, I won't be with you forever. I think it's time we found you a match. Or, you know, it would be nice if you showed your face around here sometime." His last futile attempt.

Before the computer could respond, Tony spoke.

"Ugh, Jarvis," he said as he threw his head back onto the head of the chair, despair making his every limb heavy.

"Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis,"

"Yes, sir?"

"I just remembered …"

"Remembered what, sir?"

"Dad's death anniversary is next week,"

Tony felt as if his heart had formed cramps … was that even possible?

"Yes, on the ninth,"

Tony tried to disappear into the soft cushion of his chair, his childhood flashing before his eyes.

For a moment everything was silent.

"Is something the matter, sir?"

"I need a drink," Tony slowly hoisted himself off of his chair and dragged his feet to the door and up the stairs.

* * *

"Some one's out of their cave," Pepper smiled at him as Tony entered the living room. She was sitting on the couch, sorting through a clutter of paper that was placed on the coffee table.

"Not for long," Tony shot over his shoulder. He wouldn't have replied, since talking was too much effort at the moment, but he had decided that maybe Pepper could cheer him up.

Quickly grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge, Tony hurried over and sat down next to Pepper, his mood escalating at her sight. It was good to see his best friend again after a week.

"You know, when someone tells you 'do not disturb,' and 'I'm fine,' and you know that they aren't fine, you should ignore what they say," He said as he opened the cover on the bottle.

"I thought you needed some time alone." The ginger's eyes didn't waver from the document.

"The New York City Department of Buildings had approved of the adjustment plan for Stark Tower," Tony read over her shoulder.

"That's great. I love how it came after I'm actually done rebuilding the tower. Don't think the department will mind, do you?"

Pepper scoffed.

"Sending a request was just a formality. Everyone knew that you being you wouldn't wait for anyone. And even if they had said no, you would have still had your way."

"You know mw so well," Tony laughed as he leaned back into the sofa.

Finally, Pepper looked his way.

"Only one bottle," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, mother,"

"I mean it, Tony. Only one bottle; if you don't listen I'll tell Jarvis to lock all the fridges."

Tony choked on his drink, only because he knew Pepper was being serious.

"If I can't get to the fridge how will I eat?"

"There are a ton of restaurants all over the place."

"You know that I'm in the process of turning into a hermit."

As much as Pepper tried to, she couldn't fight down her grin. Turning back to the papers, she said,

"Don't let the sharks here you say that. They're going to have a field day."

"Hm …" Before Tony knew it, the beer was gone.

"Why is the beer always gone?" He asked.

"Next thing you know, you're going to be referring to yourself as Captain Tony Stark."

"That's Steve's thing,"

"Hm …"

"Speaking of Steve, it's been ages since I've seen any of them."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Pepper, I know you're really possessive, but there's enough Tony Stark to go around."

The woman chuckled.

"You're feeling better aren't you?"

"For now,"

Once again Pepper put her work aside and faced Tony. Removing a strand of hair from her face, she looked at him with piercing eyes.

A moment of silence.

"You're not taking antidepressants again, are you?" She asked.

Tony shrugged.

"Tony!"

The man looked away.

"What's the dosage? If you're taking medication why are you drinking? Along with sleeping pills? Are you trying to kill yourself, Tony?"

Tony didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. He'd thought about it, sure, but he didn't know if he could actually bring himself to try.

Pepper sighed.

"I know things aren't going your way, Tony. And I know that you feel terrible and you blame yourself for the mishap and everything, and that the arc reactor's been troubling you again, but listen, Tony, I'm here for you. Steve's here for you, Bruce is here for you. I'm even sure if you go to Thor, he'll listen to you. Locking yourself up in your lab and gorging yourself with pills and alcohol isn't going to solve anything."

Tony pursed his lips.

"I'm over that incident, Pepper. And as for the arc reactor, that's nothing new. Don't worry." He got up to leave, Pepper having ruined his good mood.

"I'm going to the roof," he informed her, before turning away.

* * *

Loki woke up in cold sweat. For a moment, he struggled with his covers, desperately trying to untangle from them. He felt as if someone was rubbing their fingers up and down his body, leaving a tingling sensation behind. Finally untangled, Loki hoisted himself up, letting the covers fall from his body, and leaned against the backboard of his bed.

For a moment, he breathed deeply, still waiting for the tingling sensation on his skin to disappear. He had dreamt of the Chitauri coming after him, and if Loki didn't know any better, he would have thought that it had been real.

After he calmed down some, Loki threw off his covers and walked out to his living room.

Where the dreams a result of his disease?

By now, Loki was standing at the window, staring out at the dark street.

He needed a distraction; if he went back to bed now, it would just be more nightmares.

Truth be told, he had never gotten that drink from Stark and at the moment, even though it was nearing one in the morning, Loki felt like having a drink.

* * *

Tony was standing on the very edge of the roof top of Stark Tower, the Manhattan skyline surrounding him. He wasn't planning on doing anything, he had just wanted to see how long he could stand on the edge without freaking about falling down. So far, so good.

"Clint would love this," he muttered to himself, trying to stand straight despite his wobbling legs. He was constantly reminding himself not to look down. It wasn't that he was scared of heights, he was Iron Man, for god's sake, _he could fly, _it was the fact that it would be so simple to mistakenly lurch forward and let his footing slip.

Sometimes Tony's mind scared him.

But what for? Wasn't he over reacting?

Did it really matter that he lacked the fundamental emotions that every human had? Did it matter that he had begun to despise himself?

Or how about the fact that he hurt everyone around him, did Tony care about that?

_So you are a man who has everything, but nothing._ Yin Sin's voice echoed in his head.

Yin Sin: another point of regret in Tony's miserable life.

_The only thing you fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you._

Tony knew that Steve probably had changed his opinion on him, but that didn't matter. In Tony's eyes, those words would always be true.

Now, a stream of voices flooded Tony's head, each one taunting him.

Closing his eyes, Tony brought his hands to his ears, in a futile attempt to block out the voices. He felt his footing slip, and as he lurched forward, terror caused his limbs to scramble backwards.

The result was that Tony ended up splattered on the roof, heaving.

"Standing on edge of roof, bad idea," Tony noted.

After a while, when he was back to breathing normally, Tony got up and dusted off his clothes.

"It's all good," he whispered to himself, "It's all good."

Maybe too much fresh air was a bad thing.

Turning around, Tony decided that he would feel better when his feet were on solid ground.

* * *

Tony had just entered his living room, when Jarvis came on.

"Sir, Loki is at the door."

It took a while for Tony to comprehend what his computer butler had just told him.

"What?" he asked.

"Loki is at the door, sir."

Instead of telling Jarvis to get the door, Tony went himself. What could Loki possibly want with him at … Tony threw a quick glance at the wall clock, at one fifteen in the morning?

"Yeah?" Was how he greeted the god once he opened the door.

Like that time in the park, the god was dazed, off in his own world somewhere. The terror in his eyes was too much for Tony, and Tony found himself holding the god by the shoulders, furiously shaking him back and forth.

"Let go of me, Stark!" A familiar voice growled.

After sizing up Loki's face, Tony let him go, content.

"What do you want?" He asked, leaning against the door frame.

"You still owe me a drink," truth be told, that wasn't the real reason why Loki had let his feet drag him to Stark Tower.

"It's one in the morning,"

"I am well aware of the fact. Seeing as you look wide awake, you weren't sleeping."

"There's a deli a few blocks down. Go buy yourself a beer or something."

Loki watched as Stark began to close the door. It was now or never.

"What are antidepressants?" He blurted out, causing the mortal to stop in his step.

"What?" Tony asked, turning to face Loki.

"What are antidepressants?" A pause. "And the disease called depression … and …" there was another one; Loki just couldn't remember it at the moment. "And … post … post-traumatic stress disorder?"

Tony took in the sight of Loki, how small and desperate he looked standing on his door step.

"Why do you care?" Brown eyes met emerald ones.

"The doctor says I am diseased."

Tony didn't reply, instead he bit his lower lip, lost in thought.

After a moment,

"Come on in," Tony moved out of the door way, leaving space for Loki to walk through.

Another few moments and Tony and Loki were seated around the coffee table, bottles of alcohol in front of them.

"What were you saying about PTSD and depression?" Tony asked.

"What are they?"

"Well, PTSD… it has the word 'disorder' in it. It's basically when you can still feel the aftermath of some life scarring event over a prolonged period. It's when you relive that event over and over again, it's memory vivid in your head. It's when you close in on yourself, become, what society calls it, 'anti-social.' It's when your emotional levels increase, like anxiety attacks." Tony paused, opened a bottle and shoved it towards Loki. He didn't know why Loki was asking, but whatever the reason, Tony felt that he should offer sincere help. It might have been due to the haunted look that the god had in his eyes.

"For me, it's because of my abduction in the Middle East. I can still feel the ropes around my body and I can still hear their voices. I close my eyes and I see the cave I was being held in, I see Yin Sin, his voice is as clear as crystal in my head. I have nightmares, most of what I am is because of my experience in the Middle East and because of my PTSD."

"You … too?" Loki asked, hesitantly, his bottle still untouched.

"Isn't that why you're asking me?"

"No … I am asking you because I remember you asked the doctor for antidepressants."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the god, but quickly remembered meeting him at Lucas' office.

"Oh yeah …"

Another pause.

"Is that what he said?"

"What?" Loki didn't quite understand.

"Alex, the doctor? That's what he told you for your diagnosis? PTSD and depression?"

Loki nodded. "He said it was an extensive list."

Tony eyed Loki. He could never have imagined carrying out such a calm conversation with the god.

He must be really confused, Tony thought. Well, Tony couldn't blame him. Being a god and all, this all would have been really hard on him. No one likes being told that there's something wrong with them, and Tony was pretty sure that that was how Loki had taken the news. Otherwise, at least in Tony's opinion, depression wasn't really a disease.

"Um …" What was Tony supposed to say? A part of him couldn't believe that there had been a diagnosis. All those times when he had said that Loki had problems, he had been joking. He had thought that Loki was just another one of those "driven crazy by the need for revenge" villains. But this … this, gave a whole new depth to Loki and Tony found himself sympathizing with Loki because, even though he didn't know the whole story, he knew what it was like when the demons attacked.

"Join the pity party."

Loki looked at Tony and semi-smiled. Picking up the bottle, he took a swing and finished it off in one gulp.

"Damn … you just beat my record." Tony picked out a bottle himself. He couldn't remember if he had told Pepper he would only have one bottle, or if he promised.

Did it matter?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry that it's taken me so long to update! I got a little tangled up with stuff and yeah ...**

**Anyways, I tried to make the chapter long and nice ... but it's not really either. I briefly skimmed this over so sorry for any mistakes. **

* * *

A Place To Hide

"Hey Jarvis, I think I forgot my keys at home," Pepper said to entrance to Stark Tower as she stood on its doorstep, rummaging through her bag.

"Quite alright, ma'am," The computer butler replied as the double doors swung open.

Smiling at the sound of his voice, Pepper walked into the tower, too preoccupied with looking through a folder of notes for the day's press conference to notice anything strange.

That was until something round and hard came under her foot and she lost her footing. Straightening up, Pepper huffed as she looked around.

The thing she had stepped on was a bottle, one of the many that were cluttered around the living room. Annoyance evident in the purse of her lips, Pepper prepared herself to storm into Tony's room. She had told him that he had to cut down to one bottle a day. But then again, when had Tony ever listened to her?

In her fit of fury, Pepper almost missed the two lumps that were surrounding the coffee table. Almost.

One of the lumps she quickly recognized as Tony, the dead man walking. Seeing him, his face pressed up against the marble of the table, Pepper felt some of her anger ebb away. After all, she knew why the man was suddenly acting out, and she couldn't blame him. But still, he was acting like a spoiled toddler and she wouldn't have it. Building up her resolve, Pepper took a step in Tony's direction.

Mistakenly, she threw a glance at the other lump and her steps fell short.

"Lo … ki?" Pepper asked hesitantly, as she began to recognize the familiar face. Now, she wasn't so sure that Tony was simply sleeping.

"Jarvis!"

"Not to worry, Ms. Pepper, they are simply sleeping. They stayed up all night drinking."

"What?"

"I suggest moving Mr. Stark to his room and waking Loki up. The press conference is in another hour, is it not?"

A moment passed, in which Pepper stood over the two men, lips pursed and arms crossed over her chest.

Finally, sighing, Pepper bent down and picked Tony up. She would deal with him after the press conference, first she had to wake him up. And as for Loki …

Pepper threw a quick glance over her shoulder. The unguarded and vulnerable look on the god's face unnerved her. Looking away, she decided that she would leave him to his own devices.

* * *

Loki woke up with a start. Eyes still blurred and head pounding, he looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings.

"Where am I?" he asked himself.

Then as the black spots in front of his eyes vanished and his vision cleared, the memory of the past night came rushing back.

In his confused and desperate state he'd let his feet drag him to Stark's house. And if that wasn't bad enough, he'd gotten drunk with Stark. On top of that, he'd told Stark about his disease and now he was sure that the other man would utilize the information appropriately against him.

Quickly hoisting himself to his feet, Loki fought away the wave of nausea that rolled over him. Forcing his wobbling legs to stop shaking, he dragged himself out of the room, trying to remove himself from his drunken state.

* * *

Tony knew he was in trouble as soon as Pepper materialized in front of him. Still groggy, Tony forced his eyes open. The fact that Pepper was holding a bucket and that he was soaked in water, was lost to him.

"I have a legitima …"

"Save it for later, get up and get ready for the conference. I put your notes on the dining table with something for your hangover. You have a little less than an hour." Pepper cut him off, curtly. Then, after throwing him a glare, she walked out of the room, accompanied by a slamming door.

"Shit," Tony muttered as he ran his hand over his face. Just what he needed: an angry Pepper. He would make it up to her later … somehow. As for now, he had to find a way to avoid going to the press conference. He was in no mood to discuss clean-energy and what it could do for New York City with a bunch of brainless sharks.

As the man hoisted himself off his bed, he couldn't help but feel that he was forgetting something.

* * *

A few minutes later Tony found himself standing in front of his body length mirror, debating over whether to wear a bow tie or not.

So far he couldn't think of any place to hide from Pepper, the woman knew all his hideouts. Because of this, he'd settled for getting ready.

"Hm …" Tony mused, taking in his reflection in the mirror. He was currently suited up, quite literally. With a white button down, black coat and dress pants, Tony thought he looked dashing. Still, he preferred his t-shirts and jeans.

And then it hit him.

Loki.

That's what he had been forgetting.

No wonder Pepper had gotten so worked up.

Slowly, every fine detail about the past night came back to him.

"Ugh," groaning, Tony ran a hand through his hair, his splitting headache returning.

If someone asked, Tony wouldn't hesitate in saying that he did not like Loki one bit, and yet he couldn't help but sympathize with the god.

And well … to the best of Tony's knowledge Pepper didn't know where Loki was staying.

Did he really want to provoke Pepper? After all, she was already pretty angry … and well, Tony didn't want to be on the other side of her fury.

But then again, his sanity was at stake.

Tony laughed at his reflection.

Since when had he been sane?

* * *

"Thank God for Fridays," Loki mumbled as he threw himself onto his couch. Thankfully, he didn't have to go see Dr. Lucas on Fridays.

"What to do, what to do?" The constant problem. At the moment, the god was trying to keep his mind from venturing back to the previous night; he was going to do his best to erase the memory from his mind. At least, on the bright side, his headache was gone.

"It's been ages since Thor's come by,"

Not happening. If he was going to use Thor as an excuse to keep himself from thinking about Stark, he rather not try at all.

And anyways, it wasn't worth all the fuss. If Stark wanted to use the fact that Loki was diseased against him, he could go right ahead. After all, what else was there to lose?

Straightening up, Loki sighed.

That wasn't it. It wasn't the fact that Stark knew about his vulnerability that was bothering Loki, it was something else. _But what?_

The fact that Stark understood, his mind concluded.

Loki cringed. Maybe he was overthinking.

A few moments passed, and Loki once again laid down on his couch, wishing that he could fall asleep.

* * *

Just as Loki was about to give into the dark, a loud knocking sound vibrated through his skull. As the blessed grips of sleep loosened their hold on him, Loki groaned and turning around, buried his face in the arm rest of the sofa.

The knocking continued persistently.

Finally, getting annoyed, Loki threw his legs over the bed and stomped over to his door, hoping that whoever was on the other side of the door was prepared to meet his wrath. Throwing the door open, whatever anger that had been building up left Loki, being replaced by annoyance, as Tony Stark came into view.

"What are you doing here?" The god growled.

"I needed somewhere to hide," was all the explanation the other man offered before waltzing into his apartment.

"Nice place you have here, did Jane pick it out for you?" By now, Stark was standing in the middle of his house, looking around.

"Get out of my house, Stark."

"Why are you growling?" The man turned to face him, eyes twinkling.

"Get out before I force you out."

"We both know that's an empty threat."

"You underestimate me."

"No, no I don't. I know that even though you've been stripped of your powers, you can probably still throw me out of the window, but first of all, the windows here aren't large enough for me to fall through, well … you _do_ have wall length mirrors, but listen, that's not the point. The point is that even if you want to force me out or harm me, you're not going to. How do I know this? I just do."

Loki scowled despite the fact that what Stark said was true.

"So, I'm going to be camping out here for the day." With that being said, Loki watched as Stark threw himself down on Loki's couch.

For a moment, the god stood by the door, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. After a few deep breaths, Loki decided that he didn't really have an option.

"What exactly does the great Tony Stark need to hide from?" He asked as he closed the door.

"The terrifying Pepper Potts … what do you do here all day?"

"Potts?" Loki slowly made his way to his couch.

"Yes, Potts. Where's the TV remote?" Tony took the liberty of getting up and searching for the remote himself.

"You don't have to go to therapy today?" He asked as he successfully found the device and sat back down on the couch.

Loki was standing a few feet away from Stark, lips pursed, debating whether or not he should cooperate with the mortal. He could – barely – put up with him being a "guest" in his house, would he have to treat him accordingly?

"Not today." He answered slowly, pacing his words.

"Hm … hey, don't mind me. I'm just going to be sitting on this couch all day, waiting for the storm to pass."

Loki couldn't stop the strangled sounding chuckle that escaped from his mouth.

* * *

"I swear when I get my hands on him …" Pepper mumbled under her breath as she furiously punched the number buttons on her phone. Bringing it to her ear, she sighed, pushed a strand of hair out of her face, and placed her arm on her hip.

"Pick up the god damned phone!" She half whispered and half shrieked.

"Calm down, Pepper, calm down." At the moment, she was standing on the steps to the conference stage, a crowd of media filing into the room. Tony was nowhere to be seen. If only he would pick up the phone.

Pepper knew that she should probably have left the tower with Tony and that she shouldn't have gone ahead, but she had thought – no, hoped, that maybe this time would be different.

As the large conference room filled up, Pepper angrily snapped her phone shut, willing herself to regain her cool.

"Ms. Potts, where's Mr. Stark?" One of the company agents, the one in charge of hosting the event, came up to her and asked. "Everyone's almost here."

Clutching her phone tightly, Pepper gave the agent a sugary sweet smile.

"I don't believe that Mr. Stark will be able to make it today," she informed him, "don't worry, I'll take care of this." She added upon seeing the blood drain from the agents face.

"Oh gosh, thank you!" The man quickly scampered away.

"I always do," Pepper spoke to herself. Sighing, she turned to face the crowd of clicking cameras.

* * *

The day passed by and Tony didn't even notice. He had been too engrossed by the Doctor Who marathon that had been running on TV. For the most part, Loki had stayed in his room, doing God knows what. Tony was grateful for that. Even though he had chosen to hide in the god's apartment, he wasn't really looking for conversation. He was happy to be left on his own.

Thankfully, he'd _forgotten_ his phone at home, so there had been no disturbances from Pepper, he was sure that she had probably called multiple times by now, or anyone else.

Maybe he should visit Loki more often … but then again, if he did that, Tony would lose his safe house.

Clearing his throat, Tony got up from the couch and stretched, just as the ending credits for one of the episodes came on.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed as his eyes landed on the wall clock. The current time read eight thirty at night. Rubbing his eyes, Tony threw another glance at the clock, just to make sure that he had read the correct time.

"Wow,"

Running a hand through his hair, Tony yawned and looked around the room. He was hungry. Maybe he should go home? The press conference would be long over by now. Did he really want to face Pepper? But then again, did he really want to keep her waiting?

Choices, choices, so many choices.

At least he hadn't experienced any mood slumps today; that was always a good thing.

What to do? What to do?

"Maybe I should stay a little longer," Tony said to himself. Did he really want to push him? He didn't know why Loki had so easily agreed to let him stay and whatever the reason was, Tony didn't want to push it.

"That's not like you at all, Tony dearest."

"Are you talking to yourself?" The familiar posh sounding voice resounded in Tony's ears.

"Do you really refer to yourself as 'Tony dearest,'" Loki didn't even try to keep his mocking tone at bay.

"I was having a moment," Tony threw at the god. "And anyways, what happened? Tired of locking yourself in your room?"

"Mmm … don't you think it's about time for you to leave?"

"I'm hungry," Tony chose to ignore Loki's question.

"Go home and eat, Stark."

"I would, except I don't think I would come out of that building alive."

Loki rolled his eyes as he headed towards the kitchen. He was famished, but he refused to eat while Stark was there.

"You know, I'm thinking that I should come by more often,"

"Don't." Turning his back to the man, Loki poured himself a glass of water.

"Ah … that's right, you like being alone, too, don't you; because you're so high and mighty."

If Loki was in the mood, he would have argued. As fate would have it, Loki wasn't in the mood and therefore he didn't respond.

A pause.

"You know, you barged into my house last night, asked me about mental disorders, drank away my entire stock of alcohol, and fell asleep in my living room. I think I deserve some courtesy."

Loki's tightened his grip on his glass. Still ignoring Stark, he walked over to his fridge, unable to resist his stomach's growling.

Tony was enjoying himself. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he had noticed how Loki had tensed, his shoulders stiffening.

For some reason, Tony Stark liked getting under the Norse god's skin.

He was preparing another remark, but the tensing of Loki's already tensed shoulders, caused him to stop. Suddenly, time stopped and a feeling of dread formed in his stomach. With a nonexistent wind rushing through his ears, Tony braced himself for what was about to happen.

All the sudden, it was as if someone pressed the fast forward button on the remote that was Tony's life.

Loki's hands flew to his neck and he began to choke.

Tony took a step forward, but immediately stopped as Loki doubled over, coughing. Small whimpers of "get away," reached his ears.

Now,

Tony Stark did not like Loki one bit.

He also didn't reach out to people.

He most certainly did not lose his cool in pressing situations, and he didn't rush to most people's rescue.

But, Tony Stark was not a total jackass, either.

As the haunted look in Loki's eyes intensified, Tony found his body moving in auto-pilot, his only thought being to get to Loki as fast as he could.

Reaching the god, he crouched down on the floor and gripping the god's shoulders tightly, shook him furiously.

"Snap out of it, god damn," he mumbled.

Loki swatted his arms back and moved backwards, leaning into the kitchen wall. The haunted look passed away, and tears began to brim the gods eyes. Brining his hands to his hair, Loki tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling at it, a useless attempt to make the voices in his head go away.

"It looks like your situation is a little more intense than others," Tony spoke up once Loki's shuddering shoulders had stopped shaking.

"Go away,"

Tony didn't need to be told twice.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey guys! I think it's been a while since I've thanked all of you for your lovely reviews, so Thank you! They mean the world to me.**

**And yes, credit for the title goes to Sherlock**

* * *

_**You Look Sad When You Think No One Can See You**_

Tony expected her to yell and did.

Though all the years that Pepper Potts had worked with him she had put up with all his antics, but there was a limit to everything.

Tears had formed in her eyes.

She knew that this time was different.

That this time he wasn't being unreasonable; that he had a reason.

She just didn't know what it was.

And she was in pain.

He'd hurt her: that much was clear by the look in her eyes.

It wasn't about the press conference.

It was about them.

What had happened to them?

Why couldn't he trust her anymore? Why couldn't he rely on her to be there for him? They were friends, for God's sake.

She wasn't saying it out loud, trying to keep her tears from spilling, but the words were there. Loud and clear.

The answer was simple, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

He watched as her anger escalated due to the fact that he was just standing there, taking in the harsh words she was throwing at him.

She wanted him to fight back, but he wouldn't.

A pillow came flying at him. He could have dodged easily, but he didn't. It was best for her to get her anger out.

When the pillow hit him and fell to the floor with a dull thud, the tears began to spill.

Still, he was silent.

He should have wiped away the tears but his body was numb.

She was right. He had grown distant … more than he'd already been.

He had grown cold. Maybe he'd always been.

He had become cold-hearted, but only to keep others around him from hurting. It was for her better good, she just didn't understand it.

"Answer me!" She screamed, losing what little resolve she had left.

Tony had finally driven her over the edge. Something else to put himself down with.

Her cellphone came flying at him.

The pain was lost to him as it made contact with his forehead.

He would feel it later though; later when he lay in his bed at night, wide awake, trying to drown out the voices in his head.

The answer was simple.

He didn't want to burden her with his troubles.

He pleaded for her to understand, but all she could her in the silence was … emptiness.

The type of emptiness that surrounds a person that once was.

Without one word, Tony turned on his heel and walked to his room.

* * *

The only thing Tony could see was the blood on his hands … it was all that mattered. He was drenched in blood and it suffocated him.

Red walls caved in on him and no matter what he did, no matter how he tried to amend, it was always there.

The blood on his hands would not fade.

It was a reminder of who he was, a past he couldn't erase.

He'd thought he'd moved on; thought that it would get better with time. That cold, hard reality would seem a little warmer, a little softer.

That it would fade away.

He'd thought wrong.

And now he was trapped. Trapped inside a world of his own creation.

And pain …

Pain was bliss.

* * *

As always, he went through the day and no one noticed that anything was wrong.

The meeting that Fury held went by without accident. For the most part he played his role, shooting off an unnecessary sarcastic comment here and there.

No one noticed his glazed eyes, or the lifeless movements of his limbs. To the world he was the same Tony Stark he'd always been.

No one saw him breaking with every passing breath.

Pepper was barely speaking to him.

* * *

The memories were coming back, sharper than ever.

He didn't dare scream like he wanted to. He didn't dare break down. He wasn't allowed that luxury. He had to keep it bottled up.

He kept his smile intact, praying for his hand to stop shaking as he reached out for his coffee mug.

Thankfully, the other board directors didn't notice anything. He couldn't risk it, not in the middle of a meeting.

* * *

He was all alone.

Thankfully.

Pouring out the bottle of pills in his hand he rolled them around in the palm of his hand.

Maybe some other day.

* * *

The day finally came.

The world around him was slowly crumbling; the strength to stand had left him.

The collar of his favorite suit suddenly seemed too tight.

He couldn't breathe.

Staring at himself in the mirror, he saw a stranger.

Pepper's hand on his shoulder helped him get through the ceremony.

She'd forgiven him.

He didn't deserve her; she deserved better.

They all did.

The crowd faded away, the job done. Howard Stark's memory would fade from their minds as they drove further and further away from the cemetery.

Night fell.

It was over.

But not for Tony.

For Tony the memories lived on, a bigger part of him than he would like to admit.

Every year on this day he would realize that his cut's were deeper than they seemed. And they still bled. Rivers of red under his skin.

* * *

He didn't understand how his body could put up with his large intake of alcohol.

He didn't really care.

All that mattered was that it could and that he still had room for more.

He was lying on the roof of Stark Tower, eyes fixed upon the stars.

It was raining.

As the drops of rain fell on him, he wished that he could wash away.

Wash away, fade into nonexistence.

It would be so much easier.

Feeling the drops of water slide down his face, he closed his eyes, imagining that with every drop of water that hit him, his part of his essence faded away.

Soon he was numb.

In time, the numbness faded to dark, swallowing him whole.

* * *

Walking into Stark Tower, Pepper didn't even bother asking Jarvis where Tony was.

She headed straight for the roof.

He was still awake, lying on the rooftop in a sort of trance, eyes glazed over.

A pang went through her heart.

He was too far gone.

She wouldn't be enough to bring him back.

Without a word, she went back into the building to fetch a towel.

* * *

For so long he'd been surrounded by the dark that when light seeped under his eye lids, he hissed.

Slowly blinking his eyes open, Tony saw the blurred outline of Bruce's face. At once, the numbness faded replaced by his old friend, pain. Tony had gotten used to his visits by now. Judging by the fluffiness of the surface he was laying on, he was in his room, on his bed.

"Br … uce?" He asked, trying to lift his head.

"Hey," the other man responded.

Ignoring the pain, Tony tried to sit up.

"Don't."

After a moment of staring at his friend, Tony let his body slump back into the mattress.

"What are you doing here?"

"Pepper called me."

Silence.

"She thought that maybe if you couldn't talk to her, you would talk to me."

Tony turned his head away from Bruce.

More silence.

Tony despised the silence.

It was too clamorous, too jarring to his ears.

"You know … you look sad when you think no one can see you."

Tony sighed. Turning his head once again, he looked up at Bruce, who was sitting next to his bed.

"Tony … we're all worried about you. You don't think that we've noticed you acting strange? I just said it and I'll say it again, you look sad … beyond depressed, broken even, when you think no one can see you. If not for Pepper or me, than for all of us: tell me what's going on. Is it because of Howard's …"

"No." Tony cut him off.

"Pepper said that you always get like this around this time of year … but this time it's different, That you usually get drunk beyond reason and go sleep around ... but this time it's much worse."

"You already know all the details. What did Pepper make to eat? I'm hungry. Why do I feel like shit?"

"You were on the rooftop all night long in the rain and fell asleep there in the morning. And you had around two and a half gallons of alcohol. You caught a very high fever around noon and woke up multiple times to vomit. I don't think she's making anything." A pause. "And no, I don't know the details."

"You already have enough on your plate without worrying about me."

Bruce pursed his lips.

"I'm your friend, how can I not be worried? You should have seen Steve the other day when you left the conference room after the meeting. I've never seen him that distressed. Even Natasha and Clint were worried. And Thor felt it too, that something's wrong. You thought we didn't notice, right?"

That had been exactly what he had thought. Maybe his mask was less perfect than he thought.

"Tell me, how can we not be worried? Know it or not, Tony, we're here for you."

Tony swallowed.

The words rushed into his ears and struck his heart.

It was suddenly all too much.

"It's getting worse."

"What's getting worse?"

Tony touched his index finger to the side of his head.

"My brain, me. A few weeks ago I was working on something in my lab and out of nowhere my arc reactor burned out. It was sudden, it was unexpected. It shouldn't have happened."

"Pa …"

"No, it's not poisoning me, again." Tony cut his friend off, already knowing what he was going to say. "But, my body can't keep up with my brain. My post-traumatic stress disorder's gotten worse. In an exaggerated sense, my body's deteriorating."

Tony clutched the edges of the circular object in his chest.

"It's not poisoning me, but it hurts. Sometimes so much that my vision blurs and I can't stand. If this isn't a hugeass reminded of what happened in the Middle East, I don't know what is. I can't move on."

"Move on from your kidnapping?" Bruce questioned, not fully understanding.

Tony shook his head, trying to calm himself down. His breaths were coming out too fast, his body shaking.

"No …"

The memories came spilling back and Tony's hands flew to his head, clutching his hair. He yanked his eyes shut, trying to block out the reality he wished he didn't have to face.

"Tony!" Bruce cried. He watched as his friend shook violently, curling into himself. Finally snapping out of his haze, Bruce reached out and placing both hands on Tony's shoulders, helped him ease into a sitting position.

"It's okay, Tony, it's okay. I'm here; it's going to be okay." He got up from his chair and sat next to the other man. His words seemed to roll over him.

Bruce watched helplessly as Tony's eyes snapped open. He'd never seen such empty eyes; such empty eyes overflowing with pain, brimming with silent screams, the eyes of a lost child.

Eyes of a man who was too far gone, lost in the black pits of his own soul.

"Tony, calm down." Bruce pulled his friend into a tight embrace, one hand squeezing his shoulder tightly and the other gently stroking his hair. It was the only comforting gesture he could think of at the moment.

"It's going to be okay, Tony, take a deep breath. Here," Bruce grabbed one of Tony's hands and brought it to his chest.

"See how I'm breathing? Come on, you can do it. Try to follow. In, out, in, out."

Slowly, Tony stopped shaking.

A moment passed in which he regained his breath and then - as he realized that after weeks of forcing himself not to lose control, he had finally given in - he snapped himself up and out of Bruce's embrace.

"Now, don't be looking at me like I'm crazy." Tony plastered a grin to his face as he looked at Bruce.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I punch you."

"What are you talking about, Bruce?" He was still smiling.

Tony hadn't been expecting it, but Bruce really did punch him.

"What was that for?" Tony asked, gingerly touching his jaw. "As if I hadn't been in enough pain."

"For you being an idiot. Was that a result of your PTSD? How could you not have talked to anyone about this, Tony! Are you stupid!?"

"Why? Because I need help? Because there's something wrong with me? Or am I just crazy, Bruce?" His shoulders were heavy with a burden of his own creation. Words that were whispered to him in the dark were finally spoken aloud. It didn't make a difference. They stung the same.

Another punch came his way.

"You're an idiot, that's what you are. There's nothing wrong with you other than the fact that you try too hard to be an asshole."

"It comes naturally." Tony braced himself for another attack on his defenseless self. It didn't come.

Bruce sighed and turned away.

"I don't get it. Is it because of what happened in the Middle East? Or was you're childhood so bad? Did Howard's negligence affect you this terribly? I thought Phil showed you those videos, you know the one's where Howard says that he loved you, no matter how he acted. Is that what you can't move past?"

Tony shook his head, all energy having left him.

He forced himself to talk. What was the point of stopping half way?

"I've ... I've ... everything that happened with dad ... I regret it. Every single second of it. I was better off never having seen those videos. But ... that's not what I'm talking about. Yes, I would give anything to go back and relive my childhood, and not just my childhood. My whole life. Anything at all. But that's not the problem. The problem is …" Tony stopped to take a deep breath. What was the purpose of keeping his walls up now?

"The problem is that I grew up to become a murderer. Everything that's happened to me … it's my own fault. I … I'm not a prodigy, like everyone says … I'm a monster. That's what I was raised to be. My father raised me up to be a mass murderer. I killed thousands if not millions. I have their blood on my hands."

Tony shoved his hands towards Bruce, willing him to see the blood that was there.

"Tony … that's not your fault."

"You don't get it, Bruce." Tony turned towards his friend with hardened eyes. He knew that if anyone could understand that it would be Bruce. Bruce who experienced the same guilt he did.

"This arc reactor wouldn't be here if I never had gone to the Middle East for the presentation on the missile. I would never have built the missile if I hadn't been raised up to take control of Stark Industries. Every time the arc reactor sends a spasm of pain through my body, I'm reminded. Reminded of the thousands of parents who must have gotten letters saying that their sons were killed … killed by weapons I made. Thousands of families were shattered, and it's my fault. Nothing I can ever do is good enough. It will never be good enough."

"You don't know that."

"When you go on a rampage in Hulk mode and someone gets injured you blame yourself, when it's not your fault. Why can't I?"

"That's different, Tony. I … I can't control …" Bruce looked taken aback for a moment but then understanding dawned in his eyes.

"But I could have. It was my choice if I wanted Stark Industries to be a weapon manufacturer or something else. I paved the wave to my destruction, Bruce. And now I'm reaping what I've sowed."

For a moment Bruce was silent.

"Tony, if that's all this is about …"

"Don't do that, Bruce!" Tony couldn't stop his voice from rising. "Don't say, 'if that's all this is about,' like this is some small matter. I hear their screams at night. I hear them calling out to me; asking me why. I see Yin Sin, his death playing in my head over and over. I couldn't save him; someone else who died because of me. I … I built the Iron Man suit believing that I finally got a purpose. Believing that I could change … but, can their lives be replaced, Bruce? Don't tell me I've changed. I know I god damn have. Does that mean crap?"

Tony Stark didn't cry. But for the first time in a very long time, tears had formed in his eyes.

"I …"

"Need to rest."

"Bruce,"

"No, Tony. Stop. That's enough. I understand that you blame yourself and I … I can understand."

"I'm sure you can."

"But, Tony …"

"Yeah?"

"Don't .. don't …" Bruce couldn't find the right words. He understood what Tony was talking about, understood it to its core. He experienced the same thoughts, the same guilt, but … what Tony had was on an entirely different level.

"Don't let it get to you, okay? Hang in there. I'm here for you. Pepper's here for you. You have Steve and I'm pretty damn sure that if you go to them, Natasha, Clint, and Thor will listen too. Hell, you even have Jarvis. We're all here for you. Just don't ... do what I do when I get low."

Tony chuckled.

"I've thought about it."

Bruce's heart skipped a beat. He hated seeing Tony in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it. The man he was facing had helped him climb out of his hole. He was Bruce's best friend and yet when the time came, Bruce couldn't help him, not fully.

"But I can't. I can't hurt you guys any more than I have … and … and I'm scared."

"You haven't hurt anyone, Tony."

"Give Pepper one good hard look and then tell me that."

Bruce sighed.

"Stuff like that happens in relationships."

"But in the end it's the same … I've hurt her."

"Tony …"

"You know, Bruce." Tony cut him off. "I've always thought that I can't love. Like, with Pepper. I couldn't have asked for anyone better than her. She's just … amazing. And then she was in my grasp, so very close, and I let her slip away. Because I didn't love her … I only thought I did. She knew that. I never learned how to love."

"It's not something you can learn."

"I've changed my mind … this looks like it's heading towards cheese land."

"That was the worst joke I ever heard," Bruce laughed.

"You're the one laughing." Tony gave him a small genuine smile. He did feel somewhat better.

As the two friends sat in silence, Tony slowly fell from his light mood, returning to his solemn state.

"Don't go all depressed on me again," Bruce grinned, grabbing a pillow from behind Tony and swatting him with it.

"Ow!" Tony exclaimed, rubbing his arm where Bruce had hit him.

"I'm still in pain you know ... and plus, the sting of the punches hasn't faded."

"Sorry about that," Bruce chuckled, still smiling at him. He began to fluff up the pillow in his hands.

"Oh, it's on!"

At that moment neither Bruce nor Tony cared that they were fully grown men. Pillow fights here and there didn't hurt anyone.

* * *

"Is he okay?" Pepper asked, getting up from her spot on the couch as Bruce walked into the living room. She'd been sitting on the sofa or what seemed like hours, head held in her hands, tense and stiff.

"Yeah, he just needs to rest. He also asked me to tell you that he's hungry."

Finally she could take a sigh of relief.

"I'll get on it." She exhaled, her face breaking out into a grin. Damn that bastard for making her worry. For a while she could sustain her peace of mind, but Pepper knew too well that the problem wasn't over.

"Pepper …" Bruce called out as the woman began to turn away.

"Yes?"

" … I think you should get him some help. Professional help."

Pepper turned back towards Bruce and pursed her lips.

"If it's about his PTSD then …"

"He says that it's gotten worse. You didn't see him, Pepper. Me or you, we're not enough to pull him through this one."

"I know that, Bruce." Pepper sighed.

"He had anti-depressants on his night stand right alongside sleeping pills. I'm shocked he hasn't needed to take a trip to the hospital yet."

That was all the convincing Pepper needed.

"He has anti-depressants on his night stand? I thought he stopped …" she groaned irritably, running a hand through her hair.

"I'll call up Lucas."

"That's the doctor, I suppose."

Pepper nodded.

"That's good then. If you need me for anything else, call me."

* * *

**A/N: Everything aside, I quite like this chapter. I mean, there are parts that I think are strange and there might be tiny OOC moments (I apologize for those) but ... overall, it's nice, I think.**

**What about you guys? **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey everyone, I'm so so very sorry that it's taken me so long to update and that this update is really short and crappy but hey, at least it's something.**

**Blame the extremely late update on school.**

* * *

Till My Dying Breath 8

"But, Pepper, I can't just …"

"Please," Pepper cut Lucas off.

Sitting in his office with the blinds pulled shut and the lights off, Lucas ran a hand over his face. Using the tip of his foot, he rocked himself back and forth in his chair, going over everything that Pepper had told him.

"I can put him up for single sessions …"

"But, that won't help." The woman stressed each word, cutting the doctor off once again.

"With Loki? Of all people, Loki?! I mean, Pepper, I want to help Tony, I do. I just don't see how grouping him with Loki will help."

"It will. Hopefully …"

"And you see why I'm having doubts."

"Come one, Alex, trust me this once."

"But, Pepper, I …" Lucas paused. "You know my family needs me back alive."

Pepper laughed.

"It won't be that bad. Please, Alex. For me? Give them one day, see how it works out. If you think there's no hope then put Tony up for single sessions. But first, please try group therapy."

Lucas slumped further into his chair.

"You know, under normal circumstances, this would never work."

"But these aren't normal circumstances."

The doctor sighed and closed his eyes and thought it through one more time. It was his sanity over his close friends and patients.

"You can send him over. If he actually comes and cooperates and I think that it'll work out, then I'll give it a shot."

Lucas heard Pepper sigh in relief.

"Thank you so much, Alex. You don't know how much this means to me. What time is the session?"

"He has time for this in his schedule?" A question that just formed in the doctor's mind.

"I'll make time."

It was Lucas' turn to laugh.

"Well, Loki's session starts at two."

"That's perfect. That's absolutely perfect, Alex."

"No problem, Pepper."

"Take care and good luck."

Lucas chuckled. "Thanks, I'll need it."

* * *

"Hey, Pepper." Tony greeted the woman as he skipped into the living room, a large smile gracing his lips. For once, it was a beautiful day and life was wonderful.

"Hey, Tony," Pepper replied back, looking up from the papers in her hand. As always she was sitting on the sofa, a clutter of papers on the coffee table before her and on the cushions around her. "Wow, someone looks happy today."

"Because someone is," Tony walked over to the sofa and after clearing away the papers that cluttered it, threw himself down, swinging his arm around Pepper's shoulders. Leaning back into the cushion, he placed his legs on the coffee table, his smile growing. He was feeling absurdly happy today and could not conjure a reason as to why.

Turning his head to face his friend, Tony felt his smile widen.

"Why is it that on a fine day as this, you're bruising yourself with work?"

"Because I'm the CEO if Stark Industries."

"Oh yeah … forgot about that." Tony turned away from Pepper and stared at the ceiling, his sudden burst of joy ebbing away slowly.

Silence settled between the two and Pepper returned to her paperwork, her ginger hair curtaining her face. Tony didn't know about her, but he hated it; the silence that is. Things had never been so awkward between them.

"Hey, Pepper, listen, maybe after you're done …"

"Oh, I just remembered." Pepper cut him off. He wasn't sure if she had done it on purpose or not. Maybe she knew where he was going.

"You have an appointment with Alex today at two." She turned to face him.

"Who's Alex?"

"You're kidding, right?"

When Tony didn't respond Pepper sighed.

"Alexander Lucas? Your friend?"

"Oh, _that_ Alex. I never scheduled an appointment with him."

"I know, I did."

"What?" Tony felt his body cringe involuntarily. "Why would you do that?"

Betrayal. Pepper could see it in his eyes. He considered what she had told him as betrayal … if only Tony could understand that she was doing this for him. She knew telling it to him wouldn't help but she still did.

"I did it for you."

"I am not crazy."

"I never said you were. PTSD is not a sign that you're crazy. Nor does it mean that there's something wrong with you. Weren't you the one that said that? And I never said that I signed you up for sessions with Alex because you're crazy. I signed you up for sessions because you're in pain and you need someone to help you through all this."

"And that person is Alex?" Tony scoffed. "Give me a break, Pepper."

"I said your appointment is at two, this topic is not open for discussion."

"I'm not going." Tony straightened himself and stood up. He began to walk out of the room, when Pepper began to speak again.

"Then here, this is my resignation letter."

Tony felt his shoulders tense and after a moment he turned around to face her. She was holding out a sheet of paper, her eyes and posture fierce.

"I'm not accepting that."

"Don't. I'll leave it on your desk and starting tomorrow you can look for a new CEO and secretary."

"You can't do this, Pepper."

"I can."

Once again silence wrapped itself around the two. Both friends were staring at each other, battling it out.

In the end, it was Tony who tore his gaze away. Stomping back towards the table, he snatched the paper out of Pepper's hand and tore it into pieces.

"At two?" He asked his voice quaking with anger.

"At two." Pepper responded. She hated the fact that she had to blackmail him into it … but it had to be done.

"Fine."

Pepper watched as Tony stormed out of the room, repeating to herself that it had to be done.

If only she truly believed those words.

Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much.

* * *

"Yes, Thor, tomorrow … I would like it if you came a little before two. Why? Well, that way I can brief you on everything and get you up to date … Yeah? … Okay, that's fine … Yup, sounds great … Thanks … yeah, bye." Sighing, Lucas returned the phone to its charger. As if his plate wasn't already overflowing with patients, the whole Loki fiasco added on a ton of other responsibilities.

Not that Lucas was complaining, he truly wanted to help the god, but hey, he was human and as much as he loved his job, his sanity was at stake.

And anyways, he was already having enough trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that he would have to deal with Loki and Tony in the same room at the same time. Alex was sure that he wouldn't make it out alive.

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating … but, still.

Glancing over at his wall clock, the doctor sighed again. Ten minutes to two.

* * *

Tony was pissed, to say the least.

He was pissed because he knew it was true.

Needless to say, as Tony opened the door to the clinic, the door went flying. All eyes turned towards him and he gave an uneasy laugh.

"Ahahaha, sorry about that."

Glancing at the time, he saw that he was late. Specifically, the time was two thirty. He was very late ... it wasn't his fault that he had fallen asleep.

Quickly walking over to the receptionist's desk, he announced his arrival, for the first time, in a very long time, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickle as everyone in the room stared at him.

"Uh … Tony Stark."

"Door two twelve." The receptionist answered back without looking away from her computer.

For a moment, Tony swayed back and forth on his feet, building up enough resolve to walk to Alex's office. He'd tried this therapy thing once before and it had been a complete disaster. Maybe this time it would be different.

Maybe he was kidding himself.

* * *

"Is the medication helping?"

Loki's reply was cut off when the sound of the door knob turning echoed through the room.

"Sorry I'm late." The familiar voice of Tony Stark rang in the gods ears.

Questions formed but he didn't voice them out loud.

"No big deal, I expected it."

Loki heard the mortal laugh.

"Who's that? …"

A pause.

"Why's_ he_ here?"

"I believe I should be asking you that." Loki finally twisted around in his chair.

After a moment of glaring at each other, both men turned towards Lucas with expectant eyes.

The doctor cleared his throat.

"Pepper didn't tell you? You were signed up for group therapy."

"No, she didn't tell me. First of all, how does that make any sense? Second of all, it was nice seeing you again after such a long time, Alex." Tony turned his back towards the doctor, hand reaching out for the door knob.

"If you walk out of this room before the sessions' over, you'll force my hand and I'll have to call Pepper."

Tony's hand tightened around the doorknob, his knuckles going white.

"I'm not scared of Pepper." He tried laughing it off, cracking the door open.

A moment of silence.

Loki wasn't looking at Stark so when the door slammed, he thought that the man had left. The god was glad, he, too, didn't see the sense in group therapy sessions with the mortal. Above all, he refused to go along with the idea. That's why he was glad when the mortal left on his own. He wasn't in the mood of having to put any effort into resisting.

Then what was that stomping noise?

Loki watched from the corner of his eye as Stark came and threw himself down on the chair next to him, making a ruckus while he was at it.

Alex smiled.

"Thank you for cooperating."

"I just want to get this over with."

"May I ask what he is doing here?" Loki finally spoke up, his posture tense.

"No."

Silence.

Why again had Lucas agreed to this?

* * *

**It's not my best, far from it actually, but oh well**

**I felt like I owed you guys something**

**Hopefully the next update won't take as long as it took me to get this up.**

**Hopefully the next update will be better. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey guys!** **You're all probably tired of hearing this, but I'm so so very sorry for the long delay. I have no excuse. **

**I just hope you all enjoy the chapter and hope that it makes up for not updating in so long. **

* * *

_**Silence**_

"Drowning is a bit dramatic." Tony spoke to no one in particular. He was in his lab, fiddling with some scrap metal and looking at the blue prints for a new suit, a smile tugging at his lips.

His eyes scanned the paper, picking out faults and making mental adjustments to the armor. When completed, it would be a thing of beauty and also his fourth suit that month.

According to Pepper, he'd taken refuge in the building suits as a way to escape the traumatic events of his life. It was his way of avoiding the situation, of trying to erase the stains that his time in Afghanistan had left him with. According to Pepper, he was immersing himself in building suits and making improvements to the ones he'd already built because his PTSD was getting worse and the suits were his retreat.

Pepper was wrong, Tony assured himself. His PTSD was most certainly not getting worse nor was he running from his problems. Tony just liked building suits. What was so wrong with that?

He ignored the aching that echoed in his chest.

"Would it really be drowning if it happened willingly?" He mused out loud a moment later, returning to his previous train of thought.

Pausing, Tony waited for Jarvis to reply.

Silence.

"Well … technically drowning is to die under liquid of suffocation so it wouldn't really matter if it was an accident or on purpose."

The only sound present in the lab was the drumming in Tony's ears.

"Jumping off of a building is overrated, as so is hanging from a fan."

He concluded that he was lacking sleep.

"Poison is anticlimactic and bleeding dry is not an option. Not quick enough."

Or maybe he was finally going insane.

"Over dosage …" Tony let the thought hang in the still air.

He just needed to stop thinking.

However, being that that was impossible, Tony focused all his attention on the blue prints for the suit and the pieces of metal piled on his desk. Somewhere along the lines, he'd decided that he wanted to make his new suit out of recycled scrap. It'd been a pain gathering all the pieces, but Lucas had insisted that he needed a hobby that wasn't shutting himself up in his lab.

Tony had succeeded in following Lucas' advice for a record time of two days.

So, as the situation stood, Tony had all the equipment he needed to build his next masterpiece, but, at that moment, for all the worlds worth, he couldn't find the motivation to move his too heavy limbs or fight the gloom bubbling inside of him.

As he stared into the pile of scrap, the gloom grew and Tony found himself inwardly cringing.

Sighing, he steeled himself and got up from his lab chair. He'd decided on the colors gold and blue for his new suit, and just the prospect of seeing the finished piece, its fresh coat of paint gleaming in the too bright fluorescent lights of the lab, was enough motivation for him.

Once he'd started, Tony found himself getting lost easily in the process.

Crafting a suit was something, which at this point, he could do in his sleep. Despite this, the thrill that went through him as he melded the metals together and smoothed out the rough edges, never faded.

By the time he was done, hours had passed.

Smiling at the shining armor, Tony ran his hands over the chest piece, over the shoulders and down the arms, marveling at the smooth texture, the fine curves of the metal as it molded together. The fresh coat of paint shone, the rich navy blue melting into a dull gold. As Tony ran the pads of his finger around the area where his arc reactor would go, he felt a ludicrous smile creep onto his face.

Soon, however, the smile slipped off.

He had a new suit but no one to show off to.

Tony wouldn't admit it out loud, but he missed Jarvis.

Maybe that was his problem.

He'd always had a way with words but he never knew what to say.

* * *

By now Loki had learned to relish in the cold; the very cold that he'd once despised.

He stood still, face turned up towards the shower head as it spewed ice cold water. His posture was sagged, his eyes closed, and his mind drifting. The god's skin had become wrinkled from being exposed to water for too long, but he didn't mind.

As the water fell on him and trailed down his body, Loki found all thought leaving him. He could spend hours under the cold water, and he did. It chilled him to the bone, leaving him shivering for hours after, but Loki embraced it with open arms.

Loki had learned that it was better to live with indifference, complete and absolute, void of any and all emotion than to bottle up hate and resentment, and that's where the cold water came in.

He'd discovered that a splash of cold water did wonders for clearing a muddled mind and for driving away any emotions.

His life was so much better now, even if the panic attacks were more frequent. He just took them in stride. It had become a normal occurrence for him, after all.

He simply didn't care anymore and that made all the difference.

Truth be told, some credit went to the infernal meetings he had to attend.

It had been a little more than a week since his sessions with Stark had begun. In the beginning, Lucas had spent the sessions trying to coax both men to talk and failed horrendously each time.

Sometimes Lucas would ask questions and receive groans in reply, but that was the most of a reply that either man graced him with.

After a day or two Lucas had given up … except, "given up" wasn't the correct term. He'd stopped all attempts at making conversation and let the men sit in silence; and it was perfectly fine with Loki … it was just that the fire in the doctor's lavender eyes was unsettling. It was as if the whole thing was a part of his grand scheme, as if he was angling at something and the men were playing into his trap.

The god wasn't fond of being thought of as a chess piece.

But it was easily ignored. As they all settled down, the two men easing into their chairs and Lucas sitting rigid at his desk, elbows placed on the wood, chin resting in clasped hands and gaze unwavering as he looked at the two men simultaneously, the silence swallowed them all whole.

At first, Loki loathed it. He was so sick of silence, of the underlying noise behind it, the constant buzzing it surrounded him in. Under its weight he found himself constantly shifting, waiting for someone to speak up. Many times he tried to speak, but at those times he found that his mouth had gone dry and that he'd lost the ability to form words.

For a while Loki resorted to glaring at Lucas, waiting for him to speak, daring him to.

When all else failed and when he couldn't find the motivation to break the silence himself, he settled into it, letting it shroud his senses. It was then that he found his salvation.

The god was used to noise lurking in the fine lining of silence, but sitting in the large armchair in Lucas' office he found that the silence was just that, silent. It was mind-numbing and dizzying and wonderful.

When he'd fallen off of the Bifrost, Loki had accoutered a similar sensation. The silence in the abyss was blessedly just that, and had engulfed him. But at that time, he had been so full of hate and rage that the silence only added fuel to the fire.

But now that Loki had "let go," the silence wasn't filled with overbearing thoughts nor was it an open invitation for his demons to tantalize him.

The god chose to ignore the fact that the fierceness behind Lucas' eyes burned holes into his already torn up soul.

* * *

Tony grimaced, and rubbed his wrists. He was in his room, engulfed in a pile of soft covers.

Exhaustion racked his body, even though he'd spent the day doing absolutely nothing … well, there was building his suit but that didn't qualify as a tiring task.

Ignoring his aching body, Tony turned to lay on his stomach, sending another wave of pain rippling through him.

Closing his eyes, Tony sighed, cringing when it caught in his throat and came out as more of a broken sob.

He wished Jarvis would ask him what was wrong.

Well, it wouldn't really have mattered since nothing was wrong.

It was just that Tony was so damned tired.

It was all Pepper's fault, he decided.

After all, it was she that made him go to those god forsaken therapy sessions.

He knew they would never work. Instead of helping him, Tony found that going to the therapy sessions had only made his condition worse.

Groaning, he buried his face into his pillow, willing himself to stop thinking.

Instead his thoughts drifted to the previous week.

The first two days in therapy had been a disaster. The both he and Loki were too stubborn for their own good, and Lucas was even more so.

He'd tried to incite conversation but failed miserably, neither man providing a response except for the occasional grunt.

It was the third day of their session when he saw a flash of determination pass through Lucas' lavender eyes.

From that moment on, Tony knew nothing good could come from the therapy sessions.

The next day was filled with an abhorrent silence.

It suffocated him, his breathing occasionally becoming sporadic. He began to fidget, twirling his thumbs around each other, running one hand through his hair, scratching the stubble he hadn't bothered to shave.

The silence reminded him too much of the cave in Afghanistan, and sitting in the therapy room with its air conditioning, Tony found himself unbearably hot. It was as if the Afghan sun was still shining over him, surrounding him in heat and suffocating him.

Tony found himself undoing the top buttons of his shirt, and the buttons of the sleeves. He was sweating and it was ridiculous since the room was perfectly cool.

He had opened his mouth a few times, wanting to make a sound; any sound to put an end to the silence, but at that time, Tony found himself unable to make any noise.

Instead, screams welled up in his throat. The sound of footsteps echoed in Tony's ears, approaching footsteps that had filled him with dread when he'd been held hostage; for the steps singled the arrival of his tormentors.

Tony sat rigid in his chair, his hands twitching. Once or twice he found himself grasping at the edges of the arc reactor under his shirt, and one too many times his head snapped up toward the door as if he expected men holding guns and speaking a foreign language to come barging in.

The silence drove Tony insane and Lucas himself didn't help the situation. His jaw was set and there was a fire raging in his eyes that said that he was not to be deterred from whatever he was heading towards.

Never once did his gaze waver from the two men.

After the second day of following this routine, Tony decided that he was wasting his time on the sessions and that he wouldn't go.

He still found his feet dragging him to the god forsaken place.

Each day he entered the room with an iron resolve, head held high and his stride confident, and each day he left, his shoulders sagged and his tread heavy.

Maybe he wouldn't need to drown, overdose, or bleed dry.

Maybe the silence would be enough to do him in.

* * *

Loki didn't scream. He'd gotten used to the feeling of something crawling under his skin by now. The fact that it was a little worse than usual didn't seem to make a difference.

Loki wouldn't admit that he was scared out of his wits.

He vaguely remembered Thor saying something about Lucas being the best therapist in all of Manhattan.

The god feared for the city if Lucas was the best it had to offer.

Loki swallowed, despite the fact that his mouth had gone dry, as he felt someone breathe down his neck and felt slimy hands run up and down his body.

As something tore his heart from his chest, he doubled over in pain, not letting even a whimper escape his lips.

It was entirely his fault … he'd been neglecting his medicine.

* * *

Tony hated mornings.

Another morning meant another day. Another day meant more regrets.

Tony didn't think he could handle more regrets.

He wished he hadn't sent Pepper off on vacation, insisting that he would be fine. It was just that she'd really needed one. Tony knew that this whole affair was just as stressing for her as it was for him, so when she'd refused, he'd forced her to go.

He refused to acknowledge the fact that he hated seeing the way she looked at him these days, face melancholy and eyes near tears.

Pepper Potts was a very strong woman. She didn't cry easily.

The fact that just looking at Tony was enough to bring her near tears wasn't something he was proud of, or ready to face.

He could still see her worried eyes and the small and broken "Tony" that'd escaped her lips when he'd watch her get on her plane.

She'd wanted to say something to him. Something to reassure him, but in the end, she hadn't been able to come up with anything.

Or maybe she knew words would be useless.

Tony wished that she hadn't looked so hurt as he watched her climb into the jet.

"Jarvis . . ." He croaked, wondering if the AI would reply. He'd been receiving the silent treatment from the computer for the past few days. Apparently, Jarvis didn't approve of Tony going out for jogs in the pouring rain past midnight. Nor did he appreciate the fact that Tony would get drunk and fall asleep on the roof.

"Jarvis, you'd make a terrible friend."

Nothing.

"Stop ignoring me." Tony hated how broken he sounded, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

"I'm not ignoring you, sir. I've just found that nothing will get through to you at the moment and have saved myself the trouble of talking." The computer replied a few minutes later.

Tony felt his lips tug up into a small smile.

"Good to know you're still alive."

"Likewise."

Tony ignored the implications behind the reply.

At least, he still had his computer butler.

* * *

"Yes, Jane, I think it would be a very good idea." Lucas replied, keeping his frustration from leaking into his voice.

He was working very hard at getting Jane to agree to have Thor come in for a few sessions with Loki.

"I can assure you that no buildings will be blown up … he's above throwing a tantrum …"

"What progress have we made?" Lucas pursed his lips.

"Well … progress isn't the word for it, but we're getting there."

The doctor could just picture Jane Foster on the other end of the phone, shifting from one foot to the other, hesitant to agree with his plan.

"It would be beneficial to both Loki and Thor." He added, not being entirely honest. There were several ways a session between Loki and Thor could turn out, at least from what Lucas had gathered.

They could either reach some cold peace or Loki would either

1) rip Thor's head off

2) rip his own head off

Or both.

There was a pause in the conversation, in which Lucas guessed Jane was weighing the same options in her head.

"That's great!" Lucas exclaimed when the woman finally caved in. "I'll set up the appointment in a week's time?"

"No, Jane, a week isn't too soon."

"Yeah, that's perfect. Okay, see you then."

Sighing, Lucas turned his phone off. Leaning back into his chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

It was he that would be needing therapy after all of this was done.

Lucas had contemplated why he was going at such lengths for this case. He'd spent nights pouring over Loki (and Tony's) files, spent hours staring at the words on paper, wondering how he could help them.

Maybe his mother had been right. He had too big of a heart for this field. He got attached too easily.

* * *

Tony (tried to) set his jaw as he pushed the door to the dragon's den open.

Setting one foot in through the door, he already felt his knees turn to jelly as the cool air hit his face.

He was having an off day.

Running on zero hours of sleep and countless cups of coffee wasn't the best idea Tony ever had.

It was just that he'd been laying on the roof again and the night sky had been mesmerizing. Not to mention the fact that the image of his body, broken and bent, falling down to the earth from a gaping hole in the sky had kept him awake.

Tony gave himself some credit for making it to his chair without incident. Only once he was seated, did he notice that Lucas was missing from the room.

Confused, he looked at the watch around his wrist, wondering if he'd come in early.

No, he was on time.

Looking around the room he noticed that he wasn't entirely alone.

Loki was sitting in the chair to his right, lost in thought, his eyes fixed on a random point in space.

Loki.

Tony would like to say that he had completely forgotten about him, but that wouldn't be entirely true. He had some sense that he was attending these sessions with Loki siting in the chair next to him, but as soon as he sat down and the silence swallowed him, Loki would be the last thing on his mind.

Happy to have finally found a distraction, Tony angled his body so that he was slightly turned towards the god. He occupied himself with watching the other man, the memory of Loki's panic attack still vivid in his mind.

Seeing the glazed look in the god's eyes, his slack posture, and taking in the fragile air around him, Tony wanted to reach a hand out and place it on the god's shoulder.

He immediately dismissed the absurd idea.

And yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Tony pulled at his memory, vaguely remembering the other man telling him that he'd been diagnosed with PTSD and depression among other things.

Biting his lower lip, he found himself unable to do anything other than observe Loki. Not that he wanted to do anything else.

Tony had never thought about, and nor would he ever voice this out loud, but now that he took his time to look at Loki, Tony concluded that the god had a handsome profile.

He internally shuddered at having just called Loki handsome.

Maybe he was really going insane.

His eyes traced down Loki's jawline, and down the pale spans of neck. Loki swallowed and Tony's eyes watched as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

He ignored the fact that his observation of Loki could be misunderstood for him checking the god out.

Again and again, Tony found himself drawn to the god's eyes, of which he only had a side view, since Loki was facing forward.

The emerald color was striking, as sharp as finely cut glass, and yet at the same time the god's eyes were dull, strangled by despair, and enclosed by dark bags.

When the pain present in the other man's eyes became too much for Tony, he focused his attention on something else, that something else being Loki's hair.

Boy, did he need a haircut; and yet, Tony couldn't help but find the way that Loki's hair curled at his shoulders endearing. He thought that he would very much like to run his hand through the god's hair.

In the end, Tony summarized that it'd been a while since he'd been with someone. There could be no other reason for him finding Loki even slightly attractive.

His last time had been … well, Pepper, and that was a chapter that Tony had long since closed.

For once the pain in Tony's chest wasn't from the arc reactor.

Why again was Tony thinking about this now?

A sound that seemed to be coming from a dying animal reached Tony's ears, and he snapped out of his thoughts.

* * *

Some days were better than others for Loki.

Today was not one of those days.

He really shouldn't be neglecting his medicine, but Loki didn't like the fact that he had to rely on pills to keep him sane.

So when he found himself alone in the comfortable silence in Lucas' office, he let himself drift.

It'd been a mistake.

He found himself shivering for no apparent reason, panic building its way through his system.

And yet Loki remained adamant. He would not rely on pills to get through this. He wouldn't.

When was the wretched doctor going to get here?

A sudden pressure on his shoulder made Loki jerk back and he ended up painfully jabbing his own elbow in his side. How that was possible, Loki didn't know.

The pain seemed to drive the oncoming attack away.

Returning to reality in a flurry of rage, the god swatted away what he registered as a hand from his shoulder.

Turning his head so that he could face whoever this person was that thought they had a right to touch him, Loki found himself staring into a pair of very familiar eyes; eyes that were always lurking somewhere in the back of his mind.

And again, the hidden pain in them made Loki cringe.

"Stark," he growled. Only then did it occur to Loki that he'd completely forgotten about the other man, too occupied with the silence.

"Good to see you too, princess." Stark smirked at him.

The audacity.

* * *

Tony had a solid resolve to not reach out to Loki when he saw the god's body begin to shake.

He knew what was coming, having been through it himself countless times.

It wasn't a good idea to be left alone with your own thoughts, when they were your worst enemy.

Let's just say Tony's solid resolve wasn't so solid.

He'd found himself hoisting his body out of his chair and rushing to Loki's side. Placing a hand on Loki's shoulder, Tony wasn't so sure what to do next.

Apparently, he didn't have to do anything. Loki snapped out of his thoughts on his own, jerking away from him and swatting his hand away.

So much for trying to be helpful.

Crisis averted, Tony returned to his seat, all the while feeling Loki's eyes on him.

Silence ensured itself between the two again, but this time it was different. Now it was just plain awkward.

Tony Stark and Loki Laufeyson did not share awkward silences.

"Was it really that bad?" Tony found himself saying.

There was no reply, he hadn't been expecting one.

"Was what that bad?" Loki sounded annoyed.

Well, it wasn't like Tony had begged him to reply, he had no right to go and sound annoyed.

Tony slightly shook himself, trying to get his ind back on track.

Truth be told, Tony didn't know. He had asked the question without thinking and he, himself, wasn't sure what he meant. He said as much.

"I don't know. Just … everything." He finished off with a shrug.

Suddenly Tony was very tired.

After a moment, he inclined his head so that he was facing Loki. The god was watching him out of narrow eyes.

They stayed like that, seizing each other up, trying to make sense of the mess they were in, trying to figure out what was going on.

And then Tony turned away. He always had a habit of letting his mouth run off. He wasn't really interested in Loki's problems. All he was, was tired. Tony needed his bed.

And where the bloody hell was Lucas.

Did he really just say bloody hell?

Silence stretched between the two again.

Tony found himself hating it more than usual.

"Yes,"

For a second Tony wasn't sure if the word was actually spoken out loud or if it was just his imagination.

Loki's voice had been barely above a whisper, and the word was said with so much certainty, that it made him shudder.

Yes.

It, whatever _it_ was, had been that bad.

Bad enough to cause PTSD and bad enough to trigger panic attacks.

Tony was _most certainly_ **not** feeling sympathy for the god and something _most certainly_ **did not** shift in the atmosphere of the room.

Lucas, god damn his soul, chose that moment to walk in.

"What type of therapist are you?" Tony greeted him, his tone joking, relieved that he was finally here.

Even Loki let out a sigh of relief.

Tony concluded that he didn't understand the god at all.

The man had been looking through some papers and when he heard Tony's voice he looked up.

Upon seeing the broad grin on his patient (and friend's) face, Lucas felt his eyes widen.

"An insane one. I don't know why I agreed to this." He shot back, "this" being a wide range of things.

A chuckle escaped Tony.

Maybe there was still some hope.

"So I take it you're ready to cooperate." Lucas stated as he sat down in his chair.

Tony shot Loki a glance from the corner of his eye and saw that the god was doing the same.

Both men nodded, hesitantly, receiving a blinding smile from the doctor.

"Great." Lucas stated, shuffling through the papers. He didn't question what had brought the change about.

Even if he had, Tony wasn't sure he could have provided a response.

All he knew was that he was tired. So very tired.

_Yes_

The word echoed in Tony's head.

* * *

Loki found himself hating Stark, more than usual that is.

_"Was it really that bad?" _The question had caught him off guard and the other man's voice had been laced with raw emotion, sincere.

Loki had found himself replying, without meaning too.

He also hadn't missed Stark's posture going rigid and his body shaking when he'd replied that yes, yes it was that bad.

It'd confused him. After all, it wasn't as if the mortal cared.

For some god forsaken reason Loki had found himself nodding when Lucas had asked if they were ready to cooperate.

* * *

Once Lucas had found what he was looking for, he looked up at both men and his expression turned serious.

"How about we start by finding some common ground between you two."

Tony almost snorted. As if he had Loki had anything in common.

"Let's begin by talking about your fathers."


End file.
